In Another Life II
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: An alternate universe story, in which a young Dr. Harleen Quinzel crosses paths with the gangster Jack Napier, a meeting which will forever change the course of both of their lives. Huge thanks to Harlequinader for suggesting it - wishing you a very happy birthday for the 20th of March! :-)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Officer James Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department lit a cigar and turned his coat up against the pelting rain. It was a bitterly cold night, and the wind wasn't helping the chill as the rain stung his eyes. He wished himself anywhere but here. Although he was eager to get field experience, the night wasn't a pleasant one, and the case made him sick to his stomach. He was still new to the force, but he hoped he would never again have to deal with anything like this.

He could dimly make out the yellow headlights of an approaching vehicle through the storm, and headed over to it.

His sergeant stepped out of the car. "Jim," he said, shaking hands with him. "Nasty weather tonight."

"Nasty business altogether, sir," replied Gordon.

"Tell me about it inside," he muttered.

Gordon led him back inside the house, where several police officers were gathered in the living room marking out chalk outlines and taking pictures. Gordon gestured at the body. "Joseph Napier," he said. "Age 51, strangled with a leather belt. Signs of a struggle but extremely intoxicated so probably didn't put up much of a fight."

"Any suspects?" asked the Sergeant.

"Just one," said Gordon. "And he confessed."

"Well, that makes our job easier anyway, Jim."

Gordon looked at him. "Wait until you see him," he muttered, opening the door to the kitchen. "Jack?" said Gordon, gently.

A small boy was seated in the corner of the kitchen by the stove. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, and looked up at hearing his name. His eyes were stained with tears. "Jack, this is Sergeant Thompson," said Gordon, leading him inside. "He'd like to talk to you about your father."

"I don't wanna talk about my father," replied the boy, hiding his face again. "He's dead."

The Sergeant approached him gently. "Now son, I know it's a terrible tragedy, but if you want us to catch the bad people who did this…"

"I did it," the boy interrupted, looking up again. His face was completely serious. "I killed him."

The Sergeant stared at him, taken aback. He looked to Gordon, who nodded. "Why…did you do that, son?" he asked, quietly.

"He was a bad man," murmured Jack. "He hurt me. He hurt Mommy. He deserved to die."

The Sergeant studied him gently. "Is that why you've been crying?" he asked quietly.

Jack shook his head. "I ain't been crying because I'm sad," he murmured. "I was crying 'cause I was happy. I was laughing so hard I cried. It felt so good, killing the bad man. I ain't ever been so happy."

"And why ain't you laughing now, son?" asked the Sergeant, quietly.

Jack hid his face again. "Mommy wasn't happy when she saw what I did," he murmured. "She laughed, but she wasn't happy. And then Mommy cried. I don't like it when Mommy cries. That's why I killed him."

The Sergeant looked at him, and then patted him gently on the shoulder and went over to Gordon. "Where is the mother?" he asked under his breath.

"That's the other nasty bit of this," muttered Gordon. "She's being restrained upstairs. She's suffered a mental breakdown. The doctors are coming to take her away."

"Jesus Christ," murmured the Sergeant. He looked at Jack, who still had his face hidden.

"What's gonna happen to him, sir?" asked Gordon.

"He'll be put into psychiatric care," replied the Sergeant. "Probably have to spend some time in juvenile, under medical supervision. And then probably the orphanage. But hopefully they'll be able to help him…"

Gordon puffed on his cigar. "Hard to imagine a kid having to deal with this," he murmured. "Hard to imagine what's going on in his head."

At that moment, the front door opened and several men in white coats entered the house. They went up the stairs and returned a few moments later dragging someone with them, a woman, who shrieked and struggled against them. Jack leapt to his feet and rushed to the door before Gordon could stop him.

"Mommy!" he cried.

She saw him and tried to break free, but the doctors held her back. "Let her hold her son, for Christ's sake!" snapped the Sergeant.

The doctors reluctantly released her, and she seized Jack, holding him tightly. He clutched her as if for dear life. "Jack," she whispered. "Jack. You gotta be a good boy now. You promise me? You promise me you'll be good?"

"Yeah, Mommy," he whispered. "I've always been good."

She shook her head. "You…you did a bad thing, Jack," she whispered. "But you gotta be good now, ok? You gotta be good."

"I didn't do a bad thing, Mommy," he whispered. "He was a bad man, and I killed him. He hurt you. It was good to kill him, wasn't it? It felt good. It must have been good."

She shook her head again, and suddenly laughed. "Jack, don't be silly!" she exclaimed. "You…you didn't do a bad thing at all! Daddy's fine – he's just out at the bar, as usual. But he'll be home soon, and we'll all be happy."

He stared at her. "No…no, Daddy's dead, Mommy," he murmured. "I killed him."

She laughed again, hysterically. "No, Jack, no, you didn't!" she exclaimed. "You couldn't! You're a good boy, Jack. You ain't killed anyone! Don't you worry. Daddy will be here soon. And we'll all be happy."

She laughed again, and then began sobbing. The doctors dragged her off. Jack held onto her until he was pulled out of her arms by the Sergeant. "Mommy!" he screamed after her, tears running down his face. "Mommy, no, please don't leave me! Come back, please! I'll be good, I promise I'll be good! Mommy, please! Come back!"

The Sergeant tried to calm him, shushing him as he sobbed. "Now your Mommy's just gonna go to the hospital so she can get better," he murmured. "You'll see her soon. Why don't you just come with Officer Gordon and me to the station and we'll make you a cup of hot cocoa and have a little talk? How about that, son?"

"I wanna go with Mommy!" he sobbed.

"I know. I know, but you can't right now. But I promise you'll see her soon, ok, son?" he asked, gently. "Now c'mon, let's get your coat. It's a cold night out there."

Gordon sat in the back of the car with Jack. He tried to think of something to say, but what could you say in this situation? He didn't want to promise the kid everything was gonna be all right when it probably wasn't.

Jack didn't say a word, just stared out the window, crying. Gordon noticed that he was shivering.

"You cold?" he asked.

Jack nodded. Gordon took off his coat and put it over his shoulders. They drove on in silence until Jack asked suddenly, "Mommy's gone crazy, hasn't she?"

Gordon was taken aback. "Um…no, Jack, she's just…a little upset after what's happened."

"She's gone crazy," he repeated. He turned to look at Gordon. "Why do bad things like that happen, Officer?" he asked, quietly. "Mommy isn't a bad person. Why have bad things happened to her?"

Gordon didn't know how to respond. "I…don't know, Jack," he murmured. "Because sometimes life…isn't fair. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and vice versa."

"That doesn't make sense, Officer," he murmured.

"Well…the world doesn't always make sense, Jack," replied Gordon, gently.

"You mean the world's crazy too?" asked Jack. "Like Mommy?"

"It's…it's…well…um…"

"It's fine, you don't have to make up a lie for me," retorted Jack, turning back to look out the window. "I know the truth now."

Gordon couldn't say anything in response. They didn't speak for the remainder of the journey to the station. Jack sat in the waiting room, staring at the floor, while Gordon and the Sergeant prepared the appropriate paperwork.

"For God's sake, can we get the kid a comic book?" snapped the Sergeant, noticing him through the glass. "I wanna give him some kinda distraction – his thoughts must be driving him mad! Boys!" he shouted at the office at large. "Anyone got a comic book?"

Everyone rummaged through their desks. "All I got is a joke book, sir," retorted one of the officers.

"Jesus Christ, could there be anything less appropriate to give a kid who just killed his dad and saw his mom dragged off to the looney bin?!" shouted the Sergeant. "Why don't you just give him one of your porno magazines?" he demanded, sarcastically.

"Sorry, sir, I just thought…"

"I'll take the joke book," said a quiet voice. They all turned to see Jack standing in the doorway. "If you don't mind," he added.

"Jack…you didn't hear…" began the Sergeant.

"I heard someone say they had a joke book," interrupted Jack gently. "I'd like to read something funny, please."

The Sergeant nodded, and the officer handed Jack the book. "Thank you very much," he murmured, returning to the waiting room.

The Sergeant ran his fingers through his hair. "Christ, the poor kid," he muttered. "I hope he's gonna be ok."

"Wouldn't bet on it, sir," retorted the one who had give him the joke book.

"And why not?" demanded the Sergeant, rounding on him.

The man nodded at the window. "He's laughing," he murmured, quietly.

Gordon turned to see Jack with the book open on his lap, holding his stomach and laughing hysterically as tears streamed down his face. Gordon shuddered. It was the most horrible, despairing, and terrible laugh he had ever heard.

**30 Years Later…**


	2. Chapter 1

**In Another Life II**

Jack of Spades on the Queen of Hearts. Ten of Diamonds on the Jack of Spades. Then Nine of Clubs on the Ten of Diamonds. Joker card…

"Thought I got all those outta the pack," muttered Jack Napier, tossing the card aside and focusing his attention back on the game of solitaire. He puffed on his cigarette as he turned over three more cards and tried to match them to the cards in front of him.

"You say something, Jack?" asked Chuckie Sol, turning away from the TV and glancing at him.

"Yeah. What's the trump card that nobody wants?" said Jack.

"I dunno. Queen of Spades?"

"That's Hearts, you moron," snapped Jack, throwing the Joker card at him over his shoulder.

"I dunno. I don't play cards," retorted Chuckie, picking up the Joker and handing it back to him. "If nobody wants 'em, why are they even in the pack?"

Jack chuckled, putting down the card and turning around. "I always see it as that little surprise to make the game more interesting," he said, smiling. "You're sitting there, going by the rules, shuffling the cards, flipping them over one by one, when suddenly Joker appears and throws everything outta order. He's a nice little surprise, a wild card in the deck, to make the game more fun."

"Doesn't look like that'd be hard," commented Buzz Bronski, looking up from his newspaper. "Is there any game more boring than solitaire?"

"I like it, Buzz," replied Jack, turning back to his game and inhaling from his cigarette. "Gives me time to think."

"About what?" asked Buzz.

Jack grinned at him. "How to play the game, that's all, Buzz," he murmured, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "How to play the game."

Buzz snorted, looking back down at his newspaper while Chuckie turned back to the TV, munching loudly on a bag of potato chips.

The door opened and Salvatore Valestra stormed in. "Did we make the news?" he demanded.

"I dunno," replied Chuckie.

"Well, for God's sake, why don't you find out?" snapped Sal. "Ain't you interested?"

"Sure, boss, but I really like this gameshow," said Chuckie. "And anyway, don't they repeat the news at eleven…"

But Sal had already seized the remote and changed the channel over to the news. "Our top story tonight is a sabotaged drug smuggling operation supposedly orchestrated by Carmine Falcone. This has been the third operation foiled this month…"

"Serves Carmine right for getting into drugs," muttered Sal. "That's dirty business."

"Yeah, you ain't a guy who gets his hands dirty, are ya, Sal?" said Jack, smiling.

"Not with drugs," retorted Sal. "That stuff gets outta hand real fast. I'm a businessman, Jack, and I like controlling my business, not seeing it descend into chaos."

Jack shrugged. "Probably more profitable, though," he murmured. "And chaos can be a lotta fun."

Sal ignored him, turning back to the TV. "The operation was sabotaged not by any local law enforcement as might be expected, but by a masked, caped vigilante known only as Batman. The mysterious figure has aided the police in foiling several major crimes, but nothing else is known about his identity or his motivation…"

"What the hell is this?" snapped Sal. "We're being put second to a story about a guy in a Halloween costume?"

"He's more than a guy in a Halloween costume," piped up Buzz. "He's hit Maroni's business as well. The police ended up confiscating several thousand grand of his last week thanks to this Bat guy."

"Maybe we might be next, boss," said Chuckie.

"Yeah, so?" snapped Sal. "Think I'm scared of some freak dressed like a flying rodent?"

"Falcone and Maroni are," retorted Buzz.

"And do I look like either of them?" he demanded.

"Nope. You're thinner, for one thing," chuckled Jack.

"You say something, Jack?" snapped Sal, rounding on him.

"Just a joke, Sal," replied Jack, smiling at him.

"I told you to stop with the jokes – you ain't a comedian," growled Sal. "Nothing you say is funny, Jack, you got that?"

Jack didn't reply, puffing on his cigarette and turning slowly around to face Sal. "Yes, boss," he murmured.

Sal nodded, turning back to the TV. Jack glared at him in pure hatred and loathing, before he too fixed his eyes on the TV to see hazy, grainy images of a man in a bat costume. He exhaled another cloud of smoke but said nothing.

"And finally, it is believed that Salvatore Valestra's gang hit a jeweler's earlier today, although no witnesses could identify the…"

Sal flicked off the TV in annoyance. "We're the bottom story?" he demanded.

"Well, whaddya expect, boss?" asked Buzz. "We hit a small jeweler's just outside of Gotham, took maybe eight grand in total. I mean, who cares? It's peanuts compared to the kinda cash Falcone and Maroni are dragging in, so we can't expect to make the same headlines as…"

"You wanna go join Falcone and Maroni, Buzz?" snapped Sal, rounding on him.

"No, boss, I ain't saying that. I was just thinking maybe we could think about hitting bigger, more prominent targets, if fame and respect is what you're after," replied Buzz. "I mean, I guess we're safer from the cops and stuff, but you ain't gonna make headlines if you don't take risks, am I right?"

"And if you were in charge of the gang, what would you suggest?" demanded Sal.

"I ain't in charge of the gang, boss," retorted Buzz, firmly. "So I dunno."

Sal nodded. "That's right. You ain't."

"I'd hit Wayne Manor," said Jack.

Everyone turned to look at him. "Whaddya say, Jack?" asked Sal, quietly.

"I said I'd hit Wayne Manor," he repeated. "Maybe during a party, when security's a bit more lax. Talk about publicity – billionaire celebrity playboy robbed by the Valestra gang. Millions in jewels and valuables taken. Pictures all over the papers. That's where I'd hit. If I was in the charge of the gang."

Sal leaned forward, staring into his eyes. "But you ain't," he murmured, quietly.

"No," replied Jack, staring back calmly. "I ain't."

He exhaled his cigarette into Sal's face. Sal fanned the smoke away in annoyance and straightened up. "We ain't doing Wayne Manor," he said, firmly. "But we do need a bigger target next time. I'll let you boys know the plan soon – you wait around here for further instructions."

"Aw, Jesus, Sal, can't I go off to Gina's?" asked Buzz. "She's been nagging me to come over…"

"Then you go, and explain to her why you ain't got a job no more and can't afford to buy her those fancy jewels and minks she's come to expect from you," retorted Sal.

Buzz sighed. "I'll give her a call," he muttered, glaring back down at the newspaper.

"Chuckie, you need to call your brother and let him know you won't be home?" asked Sal.

"Nah. Harry expects me to drop in and out," replied Chuckie, switching the TV on and changing back to his gameshow.

"Jack?"

"Happy to wait, Sal, as usual," replied Jack, smiling at him before returning to his game.

Sal looked at him a moment more, and then left the room. As the boss of a group of gangsters, Sal knew not to poke his nose into his employees' business, but usually when you worked with people, you tended to find out things about them. Sal knew that Buzz had a girlfriend, Gina, who he'd been seeing on and off for a couple months. He knew that Chuckie lived with his brother Harry, who made a honest if humble living as a plumber. But he knew literally nothing about Jack Napier.

Jack never spoke about any family, friends, or relationships. He didn't appear to have any. He never talked about his background or his ambitions. He was silent, solitary, and self-contained, with a strange sense of humor. He wasn't a funny guy in Sal's opinion – Jack clearly thought himself a comedian, but all his jokes were cruel, and all his smiles were false. Sal didn't like him, but he never liked anyone too much. And he didn't trust him, but he never trusted anyone too much. He trusted Jack even less than usual. Jack made him feel uncomfortable, and he didn't like it. He resolved to keep a very close watch on Jack Napier.


	3. Chapter 2

"Last name?"

"Quinzel."

"First name?"

"Harleen."

"Is that Miss?"

Harleen Quinzel's smile fell a little. "Um…no, Doctor, actually," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said cashier at the bank, scribbling out what he had written. "I just assumed, being a young lady…"

"No, that's fine, I understand," said Harleen, forcing the smile back on her face. "I only qualified last week, so I'm just getting used to it myself!" she laughed.

The cashier didn't. He smiled patiently. "Is this a personal account you're wanting to open, or a joint account?"

"Personal," replied Harleen.

"Would you be interested in opening an additional joint account with your partner?"

Harleen's face fell again. "Um…I'm single, actually, so no."

"Of course, I'm sorry," said the cashier, not looking up from his work.

Harleen stared at him. Was he sorry because he had made an assumption, or sorry because she was single? The man was very patronizing – he could easily mean both. Who knew that opening a bank account could make you feel so bad about your life? She kinda regretted having to do it, but she had officially moved to Gotham now with her new job and couldn't keep using her old bank in Brooklyn. She had thought, starting a new life with a new job in a new city, it had made sense to open a new bank account. But it was proving more complicated and more humiliating than she had initially suspected.

"Do you have any proof of address?" he asked her, looking up.

"Er…yeah, maybe somewhere," said Harleen, beginning to dig through her bag. She pulled out a copy of her apartment lease she had signed this morning and handed it over to him.

"I'll also need your drivers licence, passport, and your last three statements from your former bank," he continued.

Harleen stared at him. "Right…all that's strictly necessary, is it?"

"I wouldn't waste your time or mine asking for them if they weren't," he retorted.

"Gee…I didn't realize it would be so complicated to open a new bank account," said Harleen, slowly.

"Well, obviously procedure must be followed at all times," replied the cashier. "That's simply the way things are, Dr. Quinzel."

"Yes, of course," agreed Harleen. "Well, I guess I'll have to skip it for today – I don't have my passport or bank statements on me. Thanks for your help."

"Not at all, Dr. Quinzel," he replied. "Next, please."

Harleen sighed, pausing in the foyer of the bank to reorganize her bag. Why did everything have to be so complicated? She had just been through seven years of medical school, so she was used to dealing with paperwork and bureaucracy, but sometimes she just got really sick of it. She had had to sign documents for her new apartment, forms for her new job, insurance, leases, statements, papers, papers, papers. Since when did papers have so much meaning? Since when had her life become a series of papers, one after another? And speaking of papers…

She made her way back over to the counter. "Sorry, excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt," she said, pushing herself timidly between the cashier and his new client. "But I think you still have my apartment lease."

"You'll have to wait, Dr. Quinzel, I'm just dealing with this gentleman," he snapped.

"Look, I just need it back…" she retorted, grabbing it from off the counter.

At that moment, the doors to the bank were thrown open and several shots were fired into the air. "Nobody move, this is a robbery!" shouted a voice.

Screaming and panic instantly ensued, until more shots were fired and the same voice shouted, "Everyone down on the ground with your hands over your head now!"

The people around Harleen obeyed, and she did too. She probably should have been frightened being mixed-up in an armed robbery, but she had never been able to control her temper very well, nor just calm down after people irritated her and put her in a bad mood. And truthfully, her primary emotion was still annoyance at the cashier, for the things he had said and the way he had acted. She was more annoyed than scared of this robbery, more bothered about it being yet another inconvenience she had to deal with rather than any fear for her life.

And she only grew more irritated at the time it was taking for the robbers, all three of them, to load up the cash. If they didn't hurry, the police would get here in time to arrest them, and it would serve them right. They didn't look like the brightest bulbs in the shed anyway – there was a big, fat, slow-looking one, and then a kinda thin, rat-faced one, and finally another thin one, who was smoking a cigarette and seemed to be the most competant one of the lot. His eyes were strange and bright, and they focused on the task at hand with a deep intensity and concentration. He was the most interesting of the three, mostly because he was trying to hurry the other two along, but Harleen was still annoyed at having to waste time dealing with them at all.

It was this annoyance that caused her to lose her temper, and to speak before she thought, when the one smoking the cigarette brushed past her and accidentally knocked against her on the way to the counter.

"Excuse you," she muttered under her breath.

He paused, and she instantly regretted speaking as he grabbed her by her arm and hauled her to her feet. "You say something, doll…" he began.

Jack Napier stopped speaking suddenly as he saw her face. He had never been struck speechless by anyone before, but he had never been as stunned by anyone before as he was by this young woman. She was absolutely beautiful, but that wasn't the reason he was stunned – he had seen beautiful women before. But this woman's wide, blue eyes were gazing at him with a strange expression he hadn't expected to see in anyone's face during an armed robbery. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it wasn't fear. She wasn't afraid. And that was strange. That was intriguing. That was…stunning.

He regained control of himself almost immediately. "You say something, dollface?" he repeated, sternly.

"I said excuse you," she repeated, her red lips set in a firm line, and defiance shining in her blue eyes. "Obviously you ain't got no money, having to engage in armed robbery, but manners cost nothing, y'know."

He stared at her. Nobody had ever tried to defy him before. He didn't like it.

He flicked out his knife. "I don't like dames giving me lip," he muttered. "How about I teach you some manners, sweetheart? Like how broads oughta be seen and not heard."

"Listen, bozo, this broad is a doctor," snapped Harleen. "So I'd appreciate a little more respect from the likes of you."

"Jesus, you really are a dumb blonde, ain't ya?" he snapped. "Doncha know it's a bad idea to provoke the guys holding you hostage?"

"Oh? Is that what this is? A hostage situation?" she snapped. "I thought it was just a badly planned, badly executed armed robbery! Why don't you just hurry up and take the money and go and let everyone else get on with their lives? It's not like we all wanna waste them like you idiots obviously have!"

Jack was about to respond with a few nasty words, when he suddenly heard a siren approaching. "Aw, Christ!" he hissed, cursing Buzz and Chuckie mentally for taking so long and giving the police time to get here. "Bunch of morons," he muttered. He suddenly seized Harleen around the waist and held a gun against her head. "Looks like it just turned into a hostage situation, toots!" he chuckled.

"Jack, what the hell are you doing?" shouted Buzz, rushing over to him.

"You deaf? The cops are here," snapped Jack, nodding at the door. "Only way we're gonna get away is by threatening them with the death of an innocent civilian. Not that the cops care about your life in particular, sweetheart, only it's bad publicity if they go around letting people get killed," he said to Harleen, laughing. "Just follow me," he snapped to Buzz and Chuckie, as he dragged Harleen, struggling against him, to the door.

"Ok, coppers, got a little joke for you!" he chuckled, facing down the group of policemen waiting outside, pointing guns at him. "What happens if you try to stop us getting away? Any ideas? Give up? I blow this little doll's brains out!" He laughed. "Aw, guess that ain't very funny really, is it? So if you don't want it to happen, just back off!"

"Do as he says," snapped Commissioner Gordon, and the policemen reluctantly lowered their guns.

"Chuckie, Buzz, grab the loot and get in the car," snapped Jack. "You're coming with me, dollface," he muttered in Harleen's ear, pulling her with him toward the car.

Harleen fought against him, but he had bent her arms behind her back in a vise-like grip. It was useless to struggle, but she tried anyway, her temper still overriding her common sense. He shoved her into the backseat and followed her, then snapped at Chuckie, "Drive!"

Jack held the gun against Harleen's head, watching out of the rear window, until the police were out of sight. Then he relaxed his grip on both his gun and Harleen's arm slightly. That was a mistake.

Harleen instantly punched him in the jaw, and then began lashing out violently, if ineffectively, hitting and kicking and screaming at him. He was taken aback, but quickly retaliated by striking her across the face with a powerful blow. While she was stunned, he seized her arms again, bending them behind her back until she cried out in pain.

"Now you listen to me, you little bitch!" he hissed. "You touch me again, and I'm gonna carve a smile onto that pretty little face that you'll never be able to get rid of! Just sit down and shut up! If you're a good girl, you might just make it outta this situation alive. But if you're a bad girl, Daddy is going to be very, very upset," he murmured, flicking out his knife again and holding the blade against her throat. "Get me?"

Harleen didn't respond except to glare at him. Her pride hurt as much as her face, and she could feel a black eye forming. But she wasn't going to let him get the upper hand, however much he threatened her.

"Let go of me," she muttered.

He obeyed, releasing her arms, but still holding the knife against her throat. He gradually drew it away, but they both kept their eyes on each other, in a glare of mutual loathing, for the rest of the journey.


	4. Chapter 3

"Jack, you're...what the hell is this?" exclaimed Sal Valestra as Jack shoved Harleen into the room, his gun fixed on her.

"Hostage," snapped Jack.

"Hostage?" repeated Sal, incredulous. "Did I tell you to take a hostage?"

"We didn't have any choice, boss, the cops showed up…" began Chuckie.

"Did I ask you to speak?" demanded Sal, rounding on him.

"No, sir," muttered Chuckie.

"No," agreed Sal. "I know this was Jack's idea, and I want him to explain himself to me."

"Nothing to explain," snapped Jack. "The heist took longer than expected, thanks to the peanut gallery here, the cops showed up, and I got us out the only way I could think of. Could've been a lot worse – I dunno why I'm getting crap for saving our asses and getting away with the loot."

Sal folded his arms across his chest. "What are we gonna do with her?" he demanded.

Jack shrugged. "She's a hostage. We're gonna hold her for ransom, I guess. It's what you usually do with hostages."

Sal approached Harleen, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her face up to look at him. "She's a pretty little thing," he murmured. "Might be useful…"

"Don't touch me!" shouted Harleen, snapping at his hand.

"Oh, quite the feisty little minx," said Sal, grinning. "Jack, why don't you take her to my room? I wanna have some fun with her."

Jack didn't move. "No, boss, I don't think that's a good idea," he said, firmly.

"Why not?" demanded Sal.

Jack shrugged again. "You're a man of business, you tell me. What happens if you damage goods? They depreciate in value. I'd love to personally carve up the little minx, that'd be my idea of fun, but I know if she's damaged in any way, she ain't gonna be worth as much. Simple business."

Sal nodded slowly. "Gotta say, Jack, I don't really see the benefit to all this. She might not be worth anything. Maybe nobody will pay a ransom for her and we'll have to kill her. It'll have been a lot of wasted time and effort for nothing."

Jack strode over to the TV and switched on the news. "…our top story, the Valestra gang has taken a hostage as part of an armed robbery earlier today, an as yet unidentified young woman…"

"_Voila_. Dreams do come true. Enjoy your fame," muttered Jack, dragging Harleen out of the room.

He shoved her into the attic room and she fell to the ground, but still backed away from him, glaring at him. "Don't you dare touch me," she repeated.

"Don't flatter yourself, toots," he snapped. "I'll be back in a second."

He slammed the door and Harleen looked around at the room to see if there was any way out. There was a window, but it wasn't big enough to fit through, and the only things in the room was dust-covered furniture, too heavy for her to move.

She was racking her brain to form any sort of plan, when the door opened again and Jack returned, carrying a bowl of water and a rag. "C'mere," he muttered, placing them on the ground.

She glared at him but didn't move. "C'mere!" he repeated, louder. She obeyed slowly, too slowly for Jack, who lost his patience and seized her arm again, dragging her to him. He forced her face up into the light, and then began applying the wet rag to her swollen eye.

"You hit me and then you try to make it better?" she snapped.

"You hit me first," he retorted. "Anyway, it's business. I need to make sure you look undamaged if you're gonna be worth anything. Nobody would pay to save an ugly, battered dame with a black eye. But a pretty little blonde doll like you, all young and sweet and innocent-looking, all of Gotham's gonna be begging for your release. They're gonna pay whatever we want them to pay. People are real superficial like that. They always care more about attractive people in danger."

"Is that why you picked me for your hostage?" snapped Harleen. "Because that was a mistake, I'm telling you now. I ain't gonna be sweet or good or behave myself for you."

"And I ain't gonna have to deal with you," he snapped. "The only thing I gotta do is keep you alive and looking nice. I admit that might be difficult if you keep mouthing off to me – I ain't known for my patience or my generous nature, so I would warn you, sweetheart, not to push me."

"Why not?" she demanded. "You just said yourself, you can't kill me or bruise me too badly. So what else have you got to threaten me with?"

He seized her face in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "I can give people a helluva lotta pain without bruising them on the surface," he hissed. "You mess with me, sweetheart, and I'll break you. I'll leave your little body looking perfectly nice, but I'll break you, I swear it."

Harleen glared back at him. He released her face slowly and then continued to sponge her wound. They were silent for some minutes, until Jack suddenly put down the rag, rose, and headed for the door. "I'll bring you some food later," he muttered. And then he left, locking the door behind him.

Harleen glared after him, and then began looking around the room again. She tried to remain calm despite the situation, but her thoughts began to gnaw away at her. What if nobody would pay any ransom for her? She didn't have any close family or friends, not in Gotham anyway. What would these men do to her if she did prove to be worthless to them? She didn't like to admit it, but the one who had kidnapped her frightened her slightly. He had such intense eyes, burning with such a strange fire. They made her uncomfortable. They made her think he was capable of anything. What would he do to her if his hope of gain no longer held him back?

She shivered. The room was cold. She curled up on the floor and tried not to think anymore.


	5. Chapter 4

Hours later, she heard a key turn in the lock. She sat up, hoping it wasn't obvious that she had been crying. The sun had set outside and the room was pitch black, but he entered again, the one with the strange eyes, carrying a candle and a tray of food. He placed them both down in front of her and then made for the door without another word.

"Wait," said Harleen. He turned. She met those intense eyes again, expressionless, and yet with so much hidden in their depths that she felt slightly dizzy looking at him.

"I…you don't…" she stammered. The truth was, she didn't want to be left on her own again. She had given into despair and sobbed for hours, and now panic was gradually overtaking her heart and mind. She just needed a distraction. And talking to someone, anyone, even this frightening man, was a distraction.

He approached her slowly, looking down into her eyes. He saw that she had been crying, and sat down on the floor next to her. "Red and puffy eyes ain't attractive," he muttered. "I'd stop crying if I were you. For your own sake."

"I ain't crying," snapped Harleen. It was a lie, but it didn't matter. She couldn't accept being spoken to in that tone.

He reached into his jacket. For a terrible moment, Harleen was afraid he was about to pull out a gun. But instead he pulled out a pack of cards and began shuffling them. "You like card tricks?" he asked.

"Card tricks?" she repeated, puzzled.

"Yeah." He held out the pack to her. "Pick a card," he said.

She obeyed. "Now look at it, don't tell me what it is, and put it back into the pack," he said.

She obeyed again. He shuffled them around, and then picked up one from the deck. "Is this it?" he asked, showing it to her.

It was the Joker. Harleen nodded, impressed despite herself. "That's a…neat trick," she said.

"Yeah, here's another one," he said, pulling out the Joker card again and holding it up. "Now keep your eye on him, keep your eye on him, and…poof! He's gone!" he exclaimed, as the card suddenly disappeared.

Harleen was astounded. She had been watching closely – if it was sleight of hand, it was very impressive. "Now where could that naughty Joker be?" he said, in mock bewilderment. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

He stood up, staring at where he had been sitting. He scratched his head, and looked around the room, exaggerating his guesses and his disappointment when he found that the Joker wasn't hiding where he thought it was. Harleen found herself smiling – the whole routine was like one of the silent comics, Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplain or someone.

At last, he sat back down in front of her, studying her face. Then he suddenly smiled, and reached behind her ear. "Found him!" he exclaimed, revealing the Joker card to her again. "Just like him to be trying to get close to a pretty dame!"

Harleen laughed despite herself. "You train as a magician, or something?" she asked as he replaced the card in the deck.

"Nah, taught myself," he replied. "Just like most things. If you got an interest in something, you can't wait around for other people to teach you. Gotta figure it out for yourself. You'll probably do a better job than the idiots trying to instruct you anyway."

"Your teachers must have loved you in school," said Harleen, sarcastically.

"Dropped outta school," he said, shuffling the cards again.

"Why?" asked Harleen.

He shrugged. "I got bored," he replied. "Once I get bored with stuff, that's it. I don't put up with crap once it stops being fun and holding my interest. I'm a genius, y'see."

Harleen laughed. "You're a genius?" she repeated.

"Yeah," he said, without a hint of irony. His face was completely serious.

Harleen looked at him skeptically. "Look, I'm sure you're very bright, but if you're gonna use words like genius…"

"I can read people," he interrupted. "And situations. I know how people are gonna react to things before they do. I can plan for their reaction. That's what makes me a good criminal. I can improvise, like every good comedian."

"That hardly makes you…" began Harleen, but in an instant, he had drawn his knife and shoved her down on the ground, holding the blade against her throat.

"I can kill a person in precisely 1,992 ways," he murmured. "And I got a joke for every one of them. I got perfect aim with a gun, and I never miss my target. I can kill people so it don't leave a mark, and the police don't ever know how it's done. I can slice up a face with such precision, such accuracy, that people don't know I've done it until they move the body and the skin falls off, the whole face together. I can give people smiles, such perfect smiles, so that they look almost natural, except they're horrible, and completely permanent. Such beautiful, terrible smiles…"

He slid the blade of the knife gently over her lips. Harleen's heart was pounding as he caressed her face with the cold steel, his burning, intense eyes fixated on her. And then he suddenly drew it away and released her. "Don't make me prove my genius to you," he whispered.

Harleen sat up slowly, her heart still beating wildly. Her face was flushed and her breathing ragged from fear and…and…from some strange desire, some perverse excitement that had bubbled up from deep within her as he stroked her with his knife. Some horrible, disgusting, and yet incredibly pleasurable feeling.

He stood up and headed for the door. "What's your name?" she asked suddenly.

He turned back around to face her. "Jack," he said.

"Jack what?" she asked. "We don't know each other well enough for me to call you Jack."

"Jack Napier," he replied. "But I don't want you calling me Mr. Napier. That's what people called my Dad, and we didn't ever really get along."

"Well, I can't call you Mr. Jack," snapped Harleen. She thought for a moment. "Mr. J?" she suggested.

He grinned. "I like Mr. J," he murmured.

"I'm Harleen," she said. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel. But call me Harley – everyone does."

He looked at her. "What kinda doctor are you?" he asked, coming back over to her.

"I'm a psychiatrist," she replied.

He smiled and sat down. "Yeah? Come to any interesting conclusions about me, Doc?"

"You don't wanna know," retorted Harley. "Why did you become a criminal, if you don't mind my asking? Mommy didn't love you enough?"

"Nah, Mommy loved me just fine," he replied. "I told you. I got bored. I thought crime would keep me entertained. Seemed like a pretty fun game."

"Is that what all this is to you?" asked Harley. "A game?"

He laughed. "Not a game, Doc," he murmured, grinning. "A joke. That's all anything is. One big joke."

"Well, I don't see anything very funny in my situation right now," retorted Harley.

"Didn't say everything was a funny joke," he replied. "Sometimes they're cruel jokes, or pathetic jokes, or dumb jokes. You probably went to the bank today expecting to do a normal, routine errand, and you ended up being taken hostage by gangsters – pretty cruel joke on you, really. But see, everything is a joke, Doc. You can't take life too seriously – you'll never get out of it alive anyway," he chuckled.

Harley looked at him. "I'm still holding out on the whole genius thing," she said. "But you're certainly a strange man, Mr. J. A unique man. That's as high as my praise is gonna get right now."

He smiled and stood up again. "You're too kind, Doc," he said.

"I said call me Harley," she replied.

He paused at the door and turned to smile at her again. "Goodnight, Harley," he said.

"Goodnight, Mr. J," she replied, gazing after him as he left.


	6. Chapter 5

"So there's Sal, the one with the wandering hands," said Harley. "The guy who kept accidentally touching my ass when we were filming the ransom video. And he's in charge?"

"Yep," replied Jack. "Got any eights?"

"Go fish," replied Harley, smiling smugly.

He sighed, and picked up a card from the drawpile. Several days had passed since Harley's kidnapping, and the previous day, Sal had filmed a video demanding ransom money in exchange for Harley's life, and had sent it off to the Gotham City Police Department. While they were waiting for a response, Jack and Harley were playing a game of Go Fish, which, although primarily a game of luck and chance, Harley seemed to be especially skilled at.

"Can I ask why Sal's in charge?" said Harley. "He doesn't seem to be particularly good at what he does. And I know there's at least one man in the gang who would make a better leader than him. Got any fives?"

Jack glared at her, and handed her three fives, puffing angrily on his cigarette. "You gotta work your way up the ranks in the crime syndicates," he retorted. "The people in charge ain't always the best people for the job. They're not always the brightest or the most skilled or the most cunning. But they are usually the most careful. They gotta be - if they ain't careful, they lose their job, and their lives. And Sal's a real careful guy."

"I get it," said Harley, nodding. "And then there's Chuckie. I like him – he's nice."

"Yeah, he's pretty harmless. Not what you need in a gangster, really, but he's good for basic muscle work."

"And…Buzz?"

"Buzz Bronski, yeah."

"I don't really like him. Got any tens?"

"Go fish. No, but he's Sal's favorite. I think Sal sees him as his successor. What he doesn't know is that Buzz sees himself as Sal's successor too, and really wants to assume the throne as soon as possible."

"You think he'll kill him?"

Jack shrugged, inhaling from his cigarette. "Someone's gonna."

"Are you?"

He exhaled. "Ain't none of your business, is it, really, toots?" he said, quietly.

"Sorry," she said. "It's just interesting. I've spent the past seven years of my life cooped up in college and labs, and there's no real drama there. I mean, there's superficial drama, like who's dating who, and who did what on Saturday night, but that ain't real life and death stuff like this. I mean, you've actually killed people. How many people have you killed?"

He smiled at her, puffing on his cigarette. "Lots," he retorted. "Got any jacks?"

"Just the one," she replied, handing it to him. "C'mon, Mr. J, you must know. How many people have you killed?"

"You lose count after the first hundred, toots, I promise," he said.

"Well, how did you kill your first person?" asked Harley. "You must remember that."

He exhaled again. "Yeah, I do. He was beating me with his belt, just like he had a hundred times before, and I had had enough. So I grabbed his belt from him and threw it around his neck, and tightened it. I watched his terror as I slowly choked the life outta him, and I laughed. I couldn't stop laughing, even after he was dead. I had never been so happy in my life."

Harley looked at him. "How old were you?" she asked quietly.

"Eleven. It took a lotta strength to overpower a grown man, but I had rage on my side, and he was drunk, just like he always was, so he didn't fight back very well."

"Your father?" asked Harley, quietly.

He nodded, inhaling from the cigarette again. "Mr. Napier. Yeah."

"I'm sorry," she said, gently.

"Don't be. He had it coming," he said, shrugging. "And like I said, it made me real happy. Mommy wasn't too pleased about it though. Couldn't believe her son was capable of it, really. She adored me, and she adored him, although God knows why, with the way he treated me and her. Her mind couldn't cope with what had happened, so it snapped. She died in the asylum a few years later. Funny how frail the human mind is really, ain't it? Funny how easily it can just break. One day you're fine and dandy, going about your business, and the next you're tied up in a straightjacket in the looney bin. Sanity's quite the joke, ain't it?"

Harley was silent. "My parents were model citizens," she said. "Very straight-laced, real fifties couple. Married young, stayed together through thick and thin, good people, y'know. I think they always expected me to be a good person too."

He exhaled from his cigarette. "And ain't you a good person, toots?" he asked. "Respectable doctor and all – ain't parents usually proud of kids like you?"

"Oh yeah, they were proud," replied Harley. "They were proud up until the day they died. But they didn't really know me…not all of me, y'know."

He studied her, smiling. "Got some dark secrets you wanna share, sweets?" he whispered. "I'd be happy to listen."

"Well, I ain't done anything too bad. Certainly not compared to you," she replied, grinning. "I ain't done nothing to be ashamed of yet, other than, y'know, maybe drinking a little too much at parties. Oh, and I stole a bar of chocolate once. Well, I say stole – I only put fifty cents in the vending machine, but it gave me two candy bars instead of one, so it kinda felt like I stole it…"

Jack laughed. "I'm shocked, Harley, really," he chuckled. "Such depravity in one so innocent-looking!"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to mock me," snapped Harley. "Like I said, I ain't done anything too bad yet. But I can feel…I dunno how to explain it. Something inside me, a darkness waiting to be released, like there's a monster lurking deep in my soul trying to get out. And I've repressed it for so long, but rather than killing it, it feels like it's only made it stronger and angrier. And one day it's gonna break free and consume me. And strangely I can't wait for that to happen. I dunno if that makes any sense to you."

He puffed on his cigarette, smiling at her. "Yeah, it does, toots," he murmured. He touched her face gently, and Harley felt her heart speed up again as his deep, intense eyes gazed into hers.

He grinned. "Yeah, I can see her now," he murmured. "She's such a bad girl."

He chuckled, releasing her face and looking down at his cards again. "Got any queens?"

"Um…go fish," she stammered, trying to focus back on the game and ignoring the hammering in her chest. "Got any sevens?"

He sighed heavily and handed her three sevens. She beamed. "And I think I win again, Mr. J!" she exclaimed, putting down her hand.

"Great. Let's play a different game now," he said, taking the cards from her and shuffling them.

"Aw, what's wrong, puddin'?" cooed Harley. "Sore loser?"

He glared up at her. "What did you just call me?" he demanded.

"Puddin'," she repeated, grinning. "Doncha like it?"

"No," he snapped. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Anything you say, puddin'," replied Harley, grinning. "Aw, it's so you, Mr. J!"

He stood up angrily and headed for the door. "If you're gonna be an irritating brat, I ain't playing with you anymore, Harley," he retorted. "And frankly I hope your ransom gets paid real soon so you can get the hell outta my hair as quickly as possible!"

"Me too, puddin'!" she called after him. He slammed the door and she giggled to herself. It probably wasn't a great idea to provoke a man who had lost track of the number of people he had killed, but he was really cute when he was annoyed…

Harley suddenly realized what she had just thought. Cute? He wasn't cute. He was a murderer, a monster, a man who had threatened her with death, and would probably kill her the moment she wasn't useful to him anymore. He wasn't cute.

But he was. The way his face scrunched up when he was irritated, the way he threw little temper tantrums, that was cute. As much as she tried to deny it, she couldn't help thinking it. What the hell was wrong with her? He was her captor, for God's sake, the man holding her for ransom, and she shouldn't feel that way about him. It was so…bad.

Harley felt the naughtiness inside her again, and smiled to herself. It was bad, but it felt so good.


	7. Chapter 6

Salvatore Valestra awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to see a man in a bat costume bending over him. He tried to scream, but Batman clapped a hand over his mouth. "Where is Dr. Quinzel?" he hissed. "Take me to her."

Sal nodded in terror and slowly got out of bed. Batman followed him out of the room and down the hall, and then up the stairs to the attic. "Open the door," snapped Batman.

Sal obeyed, unlocking it with trembling hands. He stepped back, shaking in terror, and let Batman into the room. He saw Harley sleeping on the floor, a smile on her lips. He approached her slowly and lay a hand on her shoulder. Her smile widened and she whispered, "Mr. J."

He shook her gently. "Dr. Quinzel?"

Her eyes opened, and she started in terror when she saw a man dressed as a bat bending over her. "Don't be afraid," he said, soothingly. "I'm here to rescue you."

"Rescue…me?" stammered Harley.

"Yes. To take you away from these criminals and back to safety."

"Oh…right," said Harley, slowly.

"Can you stand up and come with me, or do you need me to carry you?" he asked her.

"No, no, I can stand," said Harley. Batman helped her to her feet and escorted her from the room, with Sal following behind them.

Harley went slowly down the stairs, her mind confused and disoriented and a million feelings assaulting her at once. The strongest of which was panic. She didn't want to go with Batman. She wanted to stay here. She hadn't got to say goodbye to Mr. J. She might never see him again if she went with Batman. She couldn't bear that.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Harley stalled on the stairs, and tripped Sal up. He fell down the steps with a rush of swearing and noise, and landed at the bottom with a loud bang, which was exactly what Harley was hoping for.

An instant later, three doors banged open, and Jack, Chuckie, and Buzz rushed out of their rooms into the hallway, all armed with guns.

"Holy shi…" began Buzz, stunned at the scene before him, while Chuckie just gaped at Batman in astonishment.

Jack's response was far more practical. He aimed at Batman's head and fired. Batman dodged out of the way just in time, leaping forward to attack Buzz and Chuckie, who had begun firing at him.

Sal had dragged himself behind the stairs and was now cowering there, watching the battle. Jack noticed him and smiled grimly. "Ain't afraid of a guy in a Halloween costume, huh, boss?" he shouted, firing a round at Batman. He paused to reload, while Batman punched Chuckie in the face, sending him flying into the wall, and threw Buzz down the corridor.

Batman turned to face Jack, who was pointing his gun at him again. He smiled. "What's a nice rodent like you doing in a place like this?" he chuckled.

"Rescuing your hostage," snapped Batman, grabbing Harley around the waist. Jack cocked his gun.

"Put her down," he muttered, his face suddenly deadly serious.

Batman didn't respond, except to rush toward the window. Jack saw what he was doing and raced after him, reaching it just as Batman burst through the glass. But before Harley knew what she was doing, she had caught hold of the windowsill. Because of the sudden and unexpected resistance, Batman lost his grip on her and fell down out of sight – Harley remained hanging from the ledge. She suddenly felt strong arms grab ahold of her and pull her back up and into the room. She threw herself into those arms and began sobbing, at the fright she had had, at the confusion, and now at the warmth and safety of being in his embrace, in the relief of being near him again. She wasn't being torn away from him forever. He was here.

Jack shushed her gently, stroking her hair. "You ok, Chuckie?" he asked, as he slowly got to his feet.

"Yeah. Gonna have a bruise, though," muttered Chuckie, feeling his skull.

"Buzz? You all right?" called Jack down the hall.

"Yeah, yeah, I will be," muttered Buzz, hobbling over to them.

"Sal, got tired of cowering in fear like a little girl?" said Jack, smiling at him as Sal emerged from beneath the stairs.

"I told you she'd be more trouble than she's worth!" snapped Sal. "You should have let the Bat take her – I don't wanna deal with the nightmares she brings anymore!"

"Aw, c'mon, Sal, who's afraid of the big, bad bat?" chuckled Jack. "You gotta admire his style if nothing else!"

"This ain't a joke, Jack!" snapped Sal. "What are we gonna do about her?"

"Eventually, we're gonna get fifty thousand dollars for her ransom," retorted Jack. "But if you meant what are we doing in the immediate future, I'm gonna guard her tonight. You can all go back to bed. I'll handle any future flying rodent attacks!" he chuckled.

He dragged Harley into his room and shut and locked the door. She was still shaking, so he went over to his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, pouring her a glass.

"Thanks," she murmured, drinking it slowly. "And thanks for…rescuing me."

"Just business," he muttered. "You ain't worth anything if the Bat steals you away, are ya?"

He poured a drink for himself. "Why didn't you wanna go with him?" he asked, quietly.

Harley shrugged. "I don't trust strange guys who wanna dress up in bat costumes," she said, forcing a smile. "They gotta be crazy, right?"

He grinned. "Good point," he chuckled.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I think you got a few screws loose yourself, Mr. J, but at least I know your kinda crazy," retorted Harley. "At least I'm…comfortable with it."

He nodded, sipping his drink quietly. Harley sipped her own, studying him. He had obviously just rushed out of bed, and hadn't had time to dress – he was only wearing a pair of boxers and an undershirt. Harley could see his bare arms, thin but toned, and the strong definition of his chest…

She found herself breathing more rapidly, and her heart was pounding. He didn't seem to notice. "You can have the bed," he said, nodding. "I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Oh…yeah…fine," stammered Harley, feeling her body throbbing with sudden, overpowering desire. With that same, almost uncontrollable urge, she approached him and gently lay her hand on his chest. She felt him suddenly flinch, but she couldn't read his expression as she looked up into his eyes.

"We could both…I mean…" she stammered.

He looked down at her. "We could both what?" he asked quietly.

"Sleep…together. On the bed. It's…it's big enough," she added hastily. "We wouldn't have to be touching…"

He stared at her, as her fingers slowly danced over his chest. Harley felt he must be able to hear the hammering of her heart, and she knew her face was flushed under the merciless gaze from his burning, intense eyes, which she was dying to have examine every inch of her. He suddenly laughed. "That's enough booze for you, sweets," he said, taking the glass from her. "It's given you silly ideas."

He then picked her up like a child and carried her over to the bed. He lay her down, bending over her, and for an instant, just an instant, their eyes locked, and Harley gently raised herself up for his kiss. She was sure he was going to kiss her, and then…

He drew away and left her, heading over to the sofa and lying down. "Goodnight, Harley," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Mr. J," she whispered in disappointment.


	8. Chapter 7

She awoke to the feeling of his eyes on her, a feeling she had come to want and need more than anything else in the world. She sat up slowly to see him seated on the sofa, smoking a cigarette and just staring at her. They were gorgeous, those eyes, and she loved the way they bored into her, but they were impossible to read.

"Morning, kiddo," he said. "Dream about bats?"

"Nah uh," she replied, yawning and stretching. "Don't think I dreamed about anything really."

"Must be kinda a crap shrink, toots, if you ain't got any dreams to analyze," he said, grinning. "Chuckie's making breakfast – you want a shower or something while you wait?"

Harley stared at him. "Am I a guest now, not a hostage?"

He chuckled. "You don't seem very keen on leaving, so yeah, I guess," he replied. "Now that I know you don't wanna run away, you might as well be comfortable."

He stood up, putting out the cigarette. "There's a towel on the table," he said, nodding at it. "I'm gonna go see if Chuckie needs help. He ain't the brightest - probably doesn't even know how to scramble eggs."

He left her and Harley stared after him in astonishment before climbing out of bed. She made sure the door was locked, and then stripped off her clothing, putting the towel around her. She saw the bathroom at the end of the hall and hurried down to it. Shutting and locking the door firmly, she let her towel drop, turned on the shower, and stepped into it. The soothing rhythm of the water against her skin did a lot to calm her nerves and her feelings, and helped her get her thoughts and desires under control.

There was no denying she seemed to be incredibly physically attracted to her captor, but that was a semi-common occurance called Stockholm Syndrome. She was a psychiatrist, and she had studied cases of this, where hostages had appeared to have fallen in love with their captors. It was an illusion, a disease, something temporary and wrong, and something that could be cured. She just had to prevent herself from doing anything stupid, anything she would later regret, until she got away from his influence. Then she would go back to normal.

She nodded firmly and turned off the shower, wrapping the towel around her body again, and looking at herself in the mirror. She shook her blonde hair over her shoulders and tried to comb it out with her fingers. Her black eye had healed, and she looked healthy enough, if a little pale. She had certainly seen hostages look worse.

She made her way down the hall again, opening the door to Jack's room. She turned and froze to see him inside.

"Breakfast is…" he began, but stopped speaking as he gazed at her, naked except for her towel, dripping wet, her long blonde hair framing her pretty round face and her wide, blue eyes a mixture of shock and…something else. Jack was entranced. For the second time in recent memory, he was literally lost for words, and could only stare at her.

Harley had the burning desire to pull off the towel, to let him see her in her entirety, to reveal everything to him. She wondered if he wanted that – she couldn't read his feelings at all. "Mr. J…" she murmured slowly, approaching him.

"Breakfast is ready," he said, shoving past her abruptly and leaving the room. She stared after him, hurt and confused and wanting him so badly. It was so wrong, but it felt so right.

"Morning, Harley, hope you like scrambled eggs!" said Chuckie cheerfully as she entered the kitchen, fully dressed.

"With bits of shell in them," muttered Buzz, glaring up from his newspaper.

"Y'know, if you're gonna complain, you can just make your own breakfast next time," retorted Chuckie, slamming the plate of eggs in front of him. He pulled out a chair for Harley and she smiled at him as he gently put her plate down in front of her.

"Thanks, Chuckie," she said. "It looks great."

She saw Jack standing over by the coffee machine. He brought the mugs over, his face calm and expressionless as always. But Harley felt the heat of his eyes burning her, and she loved it.

"Hope everyone's recovered from the…" began Sal, entering the room. He saw Harley and stopped, looking around in disbelief. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded. "What's she doing here?"

"Having breakfast," retorted Jack. "Sit down and join us, Sal."

Sal stared at him. "Are you nuts?" he demanded. "She's our hostage! She shouldn't be sitting here having breakfast with us! She should be locked up in the attic, gagged and in chains if I had my way!"

"Didn't know you were that kinda guy, Sal," chuckled Jack, raising the mug of coffee to his lips.

Harley giggled despite herself. The look in Sal's eyes instantly turned murderous. He suddenly struck Jack across the face, causing him to spill coffee down his suit. "What did I say about jokes?" Sal shrieked. "You ain't funny, Jack, you got that?!"

Jack's eyes were fixed on his suit as he slowly reached for his napkin and began mopping at the stain. "I think you're gonna have to pay for that, Sal," he murmured, quietly.

Sal reached for his gun. "You threatening me?" he demanded.

Jack looked up at him and smiled. "I meant pay for the suit, Sal," he said, nodding downward. "It'll need dry cleaning."

"Calm down, boss," muttered Buzz. "This ain't worth fighting over. Ain't it better that the hostage is here with us so we can keep an eye on her? If we leave her in the attic, there's a chance people could try to get to her again. At least this way she ain't outta our sight."

Sal glared at him, but slowly put his gun away. "I am sick to death of you, sweetheart!" he hissed at Harley. "At the moment, fifty thousand bucks is just barely enough to prevent me from putting a bullet in that pretty face! So you just watch yourself, you hear me?!"

"She didn't do anything, boss," said Chuckie quietly.

"Yeah, she did," growled Sal. "She laughed at me. Nobody laughs at me. I ain't a joke."

"Everything's a joke, Sal," murmured Jack. "Everything and everyone. Sorry you can't see the funny side."

"And you better watch yourself too, Mr. Comedian," hissed Sal. "This is my last warning. Don't think your services and your life are so important to me that I can't dispense with both whenever I wanna. Cause they ain't. They ain't important to anyone."

He stormed from the room. There was a heavy silence until Jack suddenly laughed. "Well, someone clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!" he chuckled.

"You ok, Jack?" asked Chuckie, tentatively.

"Sure, Chuckie, why wouldn't I be?" asked Jack, grinning. "Sal talks big, but it's all hot air. And he hits like a girl," he laughed, standing up. "I'm just gonna go get changed – excuse me, ladies and gents."

He stood up and left the room. Harley rushed after him. "Mr. J…" she began, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He whirled around and suddenly seized her around the throat. Harley saw his eyes were blazing in fury, and couldn't help feeling afraid of him. Afraid and…something else, as his grip tightened around her throat. She felt her heart beating wildly, her face flushing, and her body quivering in anticipation. She wanted him to hurt her. She wanted the pain he could give her. She wanted…him.

"Not a good time, sweetheart," he hissed. "Not really in the mood for chit-chat. You'll wanna leave me alone, ok?"

He released her throat and stormed off. "I just wanna say…" she gasped after him. He paused at the door to his room, but didn't turn back to face her.

"Sal's wrong," she murmured. "You are funny. And your life…is important. To me…it's…it's…really important."

He just stood there for a moment, not looking at her. Then he opened the door and entered his room, slamming it shut behind him.

Harley waited about ten minutes for him to re-emerge, then slowly made her way back down the hall. "Where you been?" asked Buzz, who was the only one left in the room.

"Seeing that he's all right," retorted Harley.

"Why would you care?" he asked. "He's your kidnapper."

"So's Chuckie, and he made me breakfast," retorted Harley. "I know it ain't a pleasant situation, but there's no reason we can't be nice to each other, is there?"

"I guess not," agreed Buzz, studying her. "So…Jack's been nice to you, has he?" he asked, rolling a cigarette.

"He's been a decent guy, yeah," snapped Harley.

"You stayed in his room last night. You two have fun together?" asked Buzz, putting the cigarette to his lips and smiling as he lit it.

"I don't know what you're implying," retorted Harley.

"I think you do," he said. "I ain't an idiot, toots. You seem real comfortable around him. It wouldn't surprise me if there was more going on between you than meets the eye."

"What kinda psycho do you think I am?" demanded Harley. "Thinking I'd get involved with my kidnapper? Do I look crazy to you, Buzz?"

"Nah, not crazy," replied Buzz. "But you do care about him, doncha?"

"Like I said, he's been a decent guy," snapped Harley. "It's only decent of me to return the favor."

Buzz puffed on his cigarette thoughtfully. "You seem like a nice kid, toots, so I'll give you a little piece of advice," he said. "I know Jack a lot better than you do – I've worked with him a lotta years now. And if I were you, I wouldn't get too attached to him. He's crazy. I don't mean that as a throwaway comment – he is actually psychotic. Gets a kind of sick pleasure outta pain and hurting people. He's a real cruel guy, not the kinda guy a nice girl like you should be interested in. And he ain't interested in dames anyway."

"What, you mean he's interested in guys?" demanded Harley.

"I mean he ain't interested in anyone," retorted Buzz. "Don't have any desire to get close to people, doesn't want or need affection or physical intimacy. He gets off on giving people pain. That's his love. That and his sick jokes. He don't want a dame getting in the way of all that. So for your own sake, stay away from him, toots. He's a dangerous man."

"Thanks for the advice, Buzz, but I ain't interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with my captor," retorted Harley, sarcastically. "Anyway, he's old enough to be my father."

"It ain't unheard of," replied Buzz, shrugging. "Some dames like older guys. Some kinda weird, fatherly attachment, but Jack ain't that kinda protective guy. He'll only end up hurting you."

"How do you know I don't want to be hurt, Buzz?" murmured Harley. "How do you know pain isn't exactly what I'm craving?"

Buzz shrugged again. "Hey, like I said, I'm just giving you advice," he said. "You can take it or leave it. But Jack's a bad guy. And he's all wrong for a good little girl like you. Don't make the mistake of caring about him too much. You won't live long enough to regret it."

He stood up and left the room, leaving Harley alone with her thoughts.


	9. Chapter 8

She had been dreaming about him, about his touch, his strong firm hands caressing her skin, running gently over secret places no man had ever touched before. She had been dreaming about his mouth, tender yet strong, traveling along the curves of her body, his lips brushing her flesh, and his eyes, his beautiful, intense eyes ravaging her, laying bare every part and piece of her, and claiming her for his own.

She had been dreaming about all that when she suddenly awoke to feel a hand on her shoulder. His hand – she could make out his form in the darkness, sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment she thought she was still dreaming, but the incredible sensation of his hand traveling along her back, his fingers gently running down her spine and then brushing up, against her hair, and resting on her cheek, were far too real and wonderful, making her whole body feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

He obviously hadn't realized she was awake, and she didn't want him to yet. She was just enjoying being touched by him. She shut her eyes again, delighting in the incredible sensations only he could awaken in her.

His fingers slid gently over her face, her eyes, her nose, her mouth. He paused here again, brushing the outline of her lips, tracing her smile. She couldn't resist pressing her lips against his fingertips as she whispered, "Mr. J."

He instantly drew his hand away. "You're awake," he murmured, surprised.

"Yeah," she whispered, slowly sitting up. She couldn't see him clearly in the darkness, only his eyes, deep and expressionless as ever.

"What time is it?" she asked, quietly.

"Just after midnight," he murmured.

"Why are you awake?" she asked him.

He was silent. "Sal's just received a little present into his bank account," he murmured. "Fifty thousand dollars from the city of Gotham for your release."

Harley's heart fell like a stone. "But…but that means…"

"You're a free woman," he said, standing up. "Chuckie's getting the car ready to drop you off home."

"But…but…no!" gasped Harley, scrambling out of bed. "No! No, Mr. J, I don't wanna go! You can't make me leave…"

"I don't have any reason to keep you here, toots!" he snapped. "They've paid the ransom! What do you expect me to do?"

"Please, Mr. J, please!" cried Harley, seizing him desperately. "Please don't make me go away!"

He shoved her away from him. "They've coughed up the money, and a deal's a deal!" he snapped. "It's just business, kid!"

Harley gazed at him pleadingly. "Couldn't we be any more than business?" she whispered.

He was stunned. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you know?" she murmured.

He gazed at her. "No, kid, no," he murmured. "That's crazy, you know it is, a gal like you and a guy like me…"

"It ain't crazy, Mr. J," she whispered, tears running down her face. "I promise you…it ain't crazy. I'm a shrink, remember? I can tell crazy and this…this ain't crazy."

He shook his head. "No, Harley, you don't know what you're saying," he muttered. "You're upset and confused and…"

"I love you, Mr. J," she interrupted.

He stared at her. "What?" he whispered.

"I love you," she repeated, firmly. "I can't leave you, I just can't, I…I need you. I've never felt this way about anyone before, it's…it's like madness, but it ain't madness, because it's suddenly made the whole world make sense. I couldn't quite see it before, all those years when I was alone, struggling along in med school for something, some vague ambition or purpose that I was sure was out there. And now suddenly it's clear to me. My purpose is to love you. I was made to love you. And I'm gonna spend the rest of my life loving you."

He was gazing at her in disbelief, and then shook his head again. "No, Harley, no, this is crazy talk, kid. You been through a lot, and you're confused, and you're gonna need some time to recover. It_ is_ madness, temporary madness, brought on by a traumatic experience, but you'll fix yourself once you're outta here, you'll go back to your job and find a nice young guy who…"

Harley suddenly shoved her mouth onto his, kissing him roughly, a harsh, forceful kiss that took Jack aback for an instant, but which he couldn't help returning, crushing her tiny body against him. They mauled each other's mouths, and Harley dragged him down onto the bed, when he suddenly ripped himself away.

"No," he gasped. "No, kid, this is wrong! You know it's wrong!"

"Yeah," whispered Harley, grinning. "And that's why it's so right, Mr. J."

She tried to pull him back down to her, but he hauled her to her feet. "Look, you're getting outta here," he hissed. "You're gonna go back to your normal life and forget all this insanity. You're gonna forget me…"

"I could never forget you, Mr. J," she whispered, trying to kiss him again. He pushed her away.

"You're gonna forget me," he repeated, firmly. "I ain't the kinda guy any dame should get mixed up with. You'll be a lot happier without me."

"I'll never be happy again without you," she whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Harley, please go!" he hissed, pushing her toward the door. She tried to embrace him again, but he suddenly struck her violently across the face.

"Now get outta here, you worthless brat!" he shrieked, shoving her out the door. He slammed it and locked it, leaning against it and panting heavily. He heard her sobbing and beating against the door, but he ignored her, going over to his bed. He heard Chuckie's voice outside, and then their footsteps getting fainter and fainter until he heard the front door shut. She was gone.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. He put his head in his hands, trying to regain control of his thoughts. That had never been a problem before – he had always had a rational, orderly, methodical mind. But something about the kid had made him feel…crazy was a good word. He had suddenly found he couldn't control his thoughts, that rationality didn't matter anymore, that nothing mattered except being around her, her looks and her voice and her laugh. Her smile. She had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. And it had driven him crazy. And madness was a horrible thing for a rational man to have to deal with.

He laughed to himself, pouring himself a drink. The joke of sanity. One minute going about your life minding your own business, then enter a pretty dame and the next you found yourself obsessing over her, letting her distract you from your ambitions and your goals, making everything you had worked for your whole life suddenly meaningless. The only thing that mattered was seeing her smile. Pretty pathetic joke really.

He downed the glass and poured himself another one. But now she was gone, and rationality could reassert itself once more. Take away the cause of the madness, and you were bound to cure yourself. The same thing would happen to Harley – she thought she was in love with him, and love was madness. Take her away from him, the cause of her madness, and she'd recover. That made sense. That was a reasonable conclusion.

He sat down at his desk, nursing the glass of whiskey, and pulled out his pack of cards, dealing himself a game of solitaire. It was his favorite game, because you didn't need other people around to play it. Jack had never been fond of people in general – they were mostly unfunny jokes on the world, jokes that needed to be killed as soon as possible before they could be repeated. He also liked solitaire because it wasn't a game of chance – it was orderly, methodical, and you could have a strategy to it. There were rules to play by, and no room for randomness. Except…

He suddenly turned over the Joker card. He glared at it, as memories of Harley returned to him, and then reached into his jacket and pulled out a box of matches. He tossed the card into the trash can and then lit a match, dropping it into the trash can and watching the Joker burn. He then went back to his game.

Flipping the cards over again, he suddenly uncovered another Joker card. They were everywhere, these little painful reminders, and he hated them. He tossed this one into the trash can too.

After flipping over a third one, he lost his temper, and knocked over the desk, causing all the cards to flutter to the ground and the glass to smash on the floor. He slowly picked up the cards and thrust them back into the packet, and then lit a cigarette and puffed on it, irritably. He didn't want any wild cards coming along, any nasty surprises or jokes making life difficult for him at the moment. The game was already hard enough without all that, without madness, without love…

And yet he couldn't get the little minx out of his thoughts. She had stunned him from the first moment he saw her – he had known there was something special about her then. He didn't know how or why he knew it, but he did. It was crazy, but he guessed life was sometimes. He had found himself thinking about her more and more as the days passed. As he spent more time with her, the more he wanted her, as he had never wanted another human being before. He had had women, he had had flings and love affairs and all that, and they had bored him, so he had channeled his passions to something that never bored him – killing. There was always a new and exciting way to do that. But this dame…this dame made him feel something completely new, something completely different to how women had ever made him feel before. This was something powerful and thrilling and exciting, something that was anything but boring.

But she…she deserved better. He liked her, he really did. She wasn't like most people – she was smart and fun and gorgeous. She laughed at his jokes. She was genuine and sincere and caring, with nothing to hide. Beautiful. She wouldn't want a guy like him, not really, and she didn't deserve to be stuck with a guy like him. She deserved…he didn't really know what women liked. A hero. A young guy, obviously, someone her age, with a nice, sincere smile, someone who could love her completely, someone who could offer her something better than a life of crime. She deserved that. She deserved to be happy. And he wasn't the kinda guy who could make anyone happy.

He had finished a packet of cigarettes when a knock came on his door. He opened it. It was Chuckie.

"Harley…get home ok?" asked Jack.

He nodded. "She asked me to give this to you," he said, handing him a folded piece of paper.

"Thanks," said Jack, taking it from him.

"She's a nice kid," said Chuckie.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, she is."

"I hope she finds happiness," he said.

"Yeah, me too," he murmured, as Chuckie left him.

Jack shut the door and unfolded the piece of paper. He was surprised to see that it was a legal document, the lease to an apartment in the name of Harleen Quinzel. At the bottom of the document were written the words _Come over and see me sometime – H._

He smoked another packet of cigarettes. He couldn't. He couldn't. He was old enough to be her father. It was wrong. He finished a cigarette. He couldn't. He was a bad guy. He didn't deserve her, and she didn't deserve to be stuck with him. He couldn't. Another cigarette gone. He couldn't. He just couldn't. He couldn't…resist.

And before he had time to reconsider, he was out the door.


	10. Chapter 9

He went up the stairs to her apartment slowly, in the dark. He reached the door and found his hand was shaking slightly as he raised it to knock. He was nervous, afraid, and he hadn't felt that way in a long time. His heart was racing, but he tried to keep his breathing and his face calm.

The door opened to more darkness – there were no lights on inside the room. But he could still see her figure standing in the doorway, her pretty, small, lithe figure, blonde hair glowing, blue eyes shining even brighter in the darkness. Shining in happiness as she looked at him.

Without a word, she threw herself into his arms and pressed her mouth desperately into his. He returned the kiss with equal passion, with equal desperation, desperate for something he never even knew he needed. His hands traveled her waist and he lifted her up off the ground, crushing her little body closer against him. She made no response except to kiss him even harder, and to wrap her legs tightly around him, as if afraid of losing him.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, he had shoved her back into the apartment and slammed the door, then pressed her down on the sofa in the living room, their mouths never seperating. He felt her reaching down to undo his belt, and he drew away slightly.

She gazed up at him in utter adoration, her breathing heavy, and her face luminous in happiness and expectation. "What?" she whispered, drawing herself up and kissing his face tenderly. "What is it?"

"You…don't know what you're doing," he whispered, but he couldn't resist bringing himself back down to her, planting gentle kisses all over her pretty face. "This ain't right, Harley, a gal like you and a guy like me. This ain't what you want, this ain't what you need…"

She silenced him by kissing him again, a kiss that he had no ability to resist, even if he wanted to.

She pulled her mouth away gently, gazing up at him with those big, shining blue eyes, and that gorgeous smile. "I ain't crazy, Mr. J," she whispered. "I know what I want, and I know what I need. I need you. I want you. I love you."

He shoved his mouth back onto hers without any further resistance, caressing every inch of her small, beautiful body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down to her, surrendering to the darkness.


	11. Chapter 10

Jack stood on the balcony of Harley's apartment, looking out over the city of Gotham twinkling in the night. He stared at it, puffing on his cigarette thoughtfully.

"Puddin'?" came Harley's voice, as the door to the balcony opened and she appeared, dressed in a warm, fluffy bathrobe. She came over to him and kissed him tenderly, and then shivered, rubbing her arms. "It's freezing out here," she murmured. "You wanna come back to bed?"

"In a minute," he replied, patting her head. She nodded, kissed him again, and was about to head inside, when he seized her tightly in his arms and planted kisses all over her face.

"Still cold, baby?" he whispered.

"Nah uh," she murmured, rubbing his strong, thin arms, left bare in his undershirt. "But you are. Come back to bed and your Harley will warm you up with the heat of her engine."

He chuckled as she played with his suspenders, rubbing herself gently against his body. "You're a greedy little minx, ain't ya?"

"I just can't get enough of you, puddin'," she breathed, kissing him.

He was silent, looking down at her tenderly. "How old are ya, kid?" he murmured.

"Twenty-five," she replied. "Don't worry, I may look young, but I'm legal," she added, grinning.

He laughed. "I wasn't worried about that. Anyway, the law's never been something I pay a lotta attention to."

"You mean you would have done those dirty things to me if I was, say, fifteen?" she murmured, grinning at him.

"Sure. And you would have enjoyed it just as much as you did earlier," he murmured, kissing her and smiling. "Maybe your noises would have been even more high-pitched, but I don't really think that's possible."

"Oh, puddin', you naughty boy," she whispered, spanking him playfully.

He kissed her again, smiling. "I ain't a boy, toots, that's the problem," he murmured. "You know how old I am?"

She shrugged. "It don't really matter, does it? Love ain't got nothing to do with age."

"I ain't seen twenty-five for many a year," he murmured, seeming to ignore her as he puffed on his cigarette again.

Harley took his face in her hands, turning it back to her. "I don't care," she replied, firmly. "I want you, just the way you are, Mr. J. I love you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know, kid," he whispered, embracing her. "But this don't make no sense, y'know? It's crazy. Young, pretty, successful career gal like you, and an old, second-rate gangster like me…"

"You ain't old, and you ain't second-rate," retorted Harley.

"Yeah, maybe I don't have to be," he murmured. "That's the other thing, kid, seeing you, and how much you've accomplished at your age, and then looking at me, still taking orders from idiots like Sal Valestra…"

"You ever thought about not taking orders from him anymore, baby?" murmured Harley. "Everyone knows you're smarter than he is. Ever thought of…I dunno…taking his place?"

"I think about it all the time," he murmured. "Well, until you came into the picture, of course," he added, kissing her and grinning. "But now it's pretty much a fifty-fifty split. My thoughts swing between how to get rid of Sal Valestra, and how you'd look wearing nothing but a big diamond necklace I stole for you."

"Better not get the two mixed up," said Harley, grinning.

He chuckled, pinching her cheek affectionately. "I just want his death to be perfect," he said. "The perfect joke to end his joke of a life. And comedy's hard, kid – timing is everything. I gotta make sure I get the timing right to deliver the punchline…"

"Well, I ain't much of a comedian, Mr. J, but if you ask me, I think the timing's pretty perfect now," she replied. "Think about all the factors. You got a girl now who believes in you and loves you, and who will do anything to help you, like a loyal sidekick. You got this Batman guy making Sal and the other gangsters run scared – this town needs a real crime lord it can respect. Someone who can outsmart the freak in the costume. And from what I've read about this Batman guy, he ain't dumb. But he is a joke. And you're the only guy who could possibly handle a joke like him."

Jack said nothing, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Then he smiled, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his foot. He picked Harley up and lifted her off her feet, kissing her. "C'mon, kiddo, let's go to bed," he murmured, carrying her inside.


	12. Chapter 11

Harley opened her eyes to see his gorgeous face, relaxed in sleep. She shut her eyes again happily and snuggled deeper into his embrace, and she felt his arms tighten around her instinctively. She beamed, opening her eyes again and gazing at him. He was just so beautiful.

She raised a hand up and touched his face. He grunted. She leaned forward and kissed him gently, and this woke him up. Harley felt herself being crushed against him as he returned the kiss, hard and wonderful.

His beautiful, intense eyes were open now and staring at her. "Morning, kid," he muttered.

"Morning, puddin'," she whispered.

They didn't say anything else, just looked at each other. Then he suddenly rolled on top of her and kissed her, deeply, tenderly, and Harley returned it, sighing in happiness.

He drew away, grinning. "You wanna go make breakfast, toots?"

She grinned back. "I ain't your goddamn slave, Mr. J."

"That's not what you were saying last night," he chuckled.

She giggled, reaching for her robe and standing up. Or at least, that was her intention, but Jack seized her in his arms again and pulled her back down to him, kissing her over and over again.

"Mr. J…you want breakfast or not?" she murmured, in mock annoyance, beaming.

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute," he murmured, flinging her down on the bed and climbing on top of her. "Got a nice little morsel I wanna devour here first."

"Oh…Mr. J!" she gasped, shutting her eyes and pulling him down to her.

She lay cuddled in his embrace afterward, leaning against him as he sat up in bed, smoking a cigarette. She had never imagined anything as wonderful as this. She could never have imagined being this happy.

He watched her with his intense eyes as she moved around the apartment in her robe, making breakfast. She occasionally paused in her cooking just to come over and kiss him. And after they finished eating, he looked at her across the table and suddenly beckoned her. "C'mere, kid."

She obeyed instantly and he pulled her onto his lap, staring at her. "You're so beautiful, Harley," he murmured, touching her face.

"So are you," she whispered, kissing him.

"I love you, you know that," he said.

The way he said it, so firmly and naturally, as if he was just stating a fact, brought tears to Harley's eyes. "I…love you too, puddin'," she breathed.

He kissed her again and stood up, reaching for his jacket. "Gotta get back," he murmured. "Don't want the guys to know where I've gone."

"Why not?" asked Harley.

"Simple really. Don't want you to get hurt," he retorted. "I mean, Chuckie's harmless, but if Sal or Buzz knew I cared about you, you wouldn't be safe. They might try to hurt you to hurt me. I can't let that happen."

She nodded slowly. "You will…be back, won't you, puddin'?"

He stared at her. "Doncha trust me, Harley?" he asked, quietly. "You think this was like a fling for me, just a one night stand? You think I'm the kinda guy to love you and leave you?"

"Of course not, I didn't mean that," she said. "I just…I'm gonna miss you. And I'll be scared not having you here to protect me. You've always been around keeping me safe," she murmured, hugging him.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his pack of cards. "Pick a card," he said. "Look at it, and don't tell me what it is."

She obeyed, and he closed her hand around it. "Now he'll keep you safe until I come back," he murmured. "I promise I'll return to collect him. Pack of cards ain't complete without the Joker – the game ain't no fun without him."

"How'd you know it's the Joker?" asked Harley.

He kissed her. "Cause you're my wild card, baby," he murmured. "You're the one that makes the game worth playing."

He headed for the door. "Bye, toots."

"Goodbye," she murmured, gazing after him down the stairs. "My Joker."

He flashed her a smile and was gone.


	13. Chapter 12

"Where's Jack?" asked Sal, entering the room to see only Chuckie and Buzz seated at the table.

"Not here," retorted Buzz.

"Yeah, I can see that, Buzz, thanks," snapped Sal. "Either of you know where he is?"

"Nope," replied Chuckie. "But he's been gone a lot recently. I guess he finally found something better to do than hang around here."

"Something or someone," muttered Buzz under his breath.

Sal looked at him and then said, "Chuckie, why don't you go watch TV? Ain't your gameshow on now?"

"Oh, yeah, it is, boss," said Chuckie. "Thanks for reminding me."

He left the room and Sal shut the door after him. "You know where Jack is, Buzz?" he asked, quietly.

"Not for sure," replied Buzz, lighting up a cigarette. "But I got a pretty good idea."

Sal was about to press him for more information, when suddenly Jack strode into the room. "Sorry I'm late – got caught in traffic," he said.

"Where ya been, Jack?" asked Sal.

"Out," he retorted.

"Anywhere nice?" asked Sal.

"Don't really think that's any of your business, Sal," retorted Jack.

"No need to be touchy – I was just asking," replied Sal.

"What do you want us here for?" asked Jack, pulling out a cigarette.

"I want you and Chuckie to hit the post office tonight," said Sal. "You'll probably only take a couple grand, but I want a small job just to keep our name in the news."

Jack exhaled a cloud of smoke irritably. "Aw, Christ, Sal, can't you send Buzz? I'm busy tonight."

"With what?" asked Sal.

"Stuff," he retorted.

"More important stuff than your boss's orders?" demanded Sal.

"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, it is, actually. Certainly more important than some stupid, just-for-show job at the post office."

Sal glared at him. "You got a real attitude problem lately, Jack, and I don't like it. You better wise up, or…"

"Or what?" interrupted Jack. "What're you gonna do to me, Sal? Hit me again? You go ahead and do that, see if I care."

"Oh, I'll do a lot worse than hit you," replied Sal, quietly. "I'll hit you right where it hurts, Jack."

Jack snorted. "You've never known how to really hurt a guy, Sal," he retorted. "That's why nobody's afraid of you. And if you ain't got fear, you ain't got respect. And you ain't got either."

He stood up. "I'll go get Chuckie," he muttered, leaving the room.

Sal glared after him and then shut the door again. "Tell me what you know," he said to Buzz.

Buzz shrugged. "My guess is he's been at Harley's."

Sal stared at him. "Harley? What, the hostage?"

Buzz nodded. "I think she's his mistress. She had a thing for him when she was here. And Jack may be a psychopath, but he's still a red-blooded male, and she's an attractive gal. It's only natural something may have developed between them."

"You mean…he's been screwing her?" asked Sal.

"You sound surprised," said Buzz.

"Well…yeah. I just never thought Jack was that interested in…that," said Sal. "Always seemed more preoccupied with pain and violence than with sex."

"Who knows how his mind works?" said Buzz, shrugging. "But I can't blame him if he is screwing her. She's quite the babe. I wouldn't have minded getting my hands on her myself, especially now that Gina and me have split."

Sal was silent. "Buzz…" he said, slowly. "How would you like to get your hands on her, and teach Jack a lesson at the same time?"

Buzz stared at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"That we pay Harley a little visit," said Sal. "Just to see how she's doing after the whole hostage thing. Maybe take advantage of her hospitality a little. And then leave her carved up and waiting for Jack to find her. It would certainly teach him some manners. And it would show him that I know how to hurt a guy just as well as he does."

Buzz inhaled his cigarette. "I dunno, Sal, that's a real harsh thing to do to a guy…"

"You can't tell me he ain't been asking for it," snapped Sal. "He's been trouble from day one, thinking he's better than us, being defiant, not showing me the respect I deserve. Well, now I'm gonna break him, Buzz. He won't dare disrespect me after this."

Buzz exhaled slowly, nodding. "Yeah. Ok. I'm in."


	14. Chapter 13

Harley looked at her reflection in the mirror, and couldn't stop smiling. She never could these days – she was too happy all the time. Especially at times like these, when any moment she was expecting Mr. J to come home, head straight to the bedroom, take her in his arms, and show her how much he had missed her.

She looked at her reflection again, hoping he'd be pleased. Mr. J had bought her a sexy red and black lace number and had told her to be wearing it when he got home that night. She smiled at the way it fit, revealing and flattering her curves, and then bounced happily into the bedroom, jumping onto the bed and spreading herself over the pillows. She wanted to look irresistable when he walked in, and so she struck an inviting pose, smiling seductively. Mr. J had told her a thousand times how much he adored her smile, and that made her never want to stop smiling. But she couldn't even if she wanted to. She had never been so happy.

She heard the front door shut and her heart pounded in excitement. "Your Harley is waiting to be revved up in the bedroom, puddin'!" she called.

"Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but we ain't puddin'," said Sal Valestra, entering the room followed by Buzz Bronski.

Panic seized Harley as she immediately sat up, clutching the blankets to her. Sal whistled. "Now ain't that a sight for sore eyes, Buzz?" he asked, grinning at her. "Scantily clad dame just ripe and waiting for a nice, hard pounding."

"What are you doing here?" Harley demanded, trying not to let her terror show.

"Now, now, that ain't no way to talk to your former captors, sweetheart," said Sal, smiling. "And since you're so hospitable to Jack, the least you can do is be hospitable to us."

"Don't you dare touch me," hissed Harley.

"Aw, c'mon, baby, we're Jack's colleagues," chuckled Sal. "Why shouldn't we get to enjoy what he gets to enjoy? Share and share alike, that's our motto. Ain't that right, Buzz?"

In response, Buzz seized her arms, shoving her down on the bed, while Sal forced her legs apart and began undoing his belt. Harley fought and struggled wildly, but they were both strong men. "I did try to warn you, didn't I, toots?" murmured Buzz in her ear. "You let yourself get involved with him, and you end up getting hurt. I don't think you're gonna like this pain, sweetheart. And I'm afraid you ain't gonna live to regret your mistake."

In a final act of desperation, Harley managed to wrench one hand free, and seized the gun Mr. J kept underneath his pillow. "Neither will you!" she hissed, putting it to his face, shutting her eyes, and pulling the trigger.

She heard a scream, and forced her eyes open to see blood everywhere. She felt Sal release his grip on her legs and sat up, aiming the gun at him and pulling the trigger again without a moment's hesitation. This time she watched as the bullet embedded itself in his skull, sending more blood splattering over the sheets and over her.

She dropped the gun with a sob as his body dropped to the ground, her own body shaking in terror. She buried her face in her trembling hands, but could still smell and feel the blood on them. There was no escape from the horror.

Then she heard the front door bang open. "Harley!" shouted a familiar voice. "Harley!"

Jack rushed into the bedroom and froze to see the bodies of Sal Valestra and Buzz Bronski lying on the floor, and both the bed and Harley covered in blood. She looked up at him, shivering in fear, tears shining in her wide, blue eyes.

He seized her in his arms and began kissing her desperately, clutching her tightly to him. "Oh, Jesus!" he gasped, as she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "Oh, Jesus Christ, I'm so glad you're safe!"

"I killed them, Mr. J!" she sobbed. "I killed them! I ain't ever killed anyone before…"

"Shh, shh, kiddo," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Shh, it's ok. They had it coming. They were bad men. They were gonna hurt you. They deserved to die."

"I killed them, Mr. J!" she repeated.

He looked down into her wide, terrified eyes, and kissed her tenderly. "It's all right, baby," he murmured. "Everything's all right now."

He held her gently for a long time, not saying a word, until she stopped crying. Then he drew away from her, gazing at her and smiling softly. "You did good, kid," he whispered. "I'm so proud of you, Harley."

Harley managed a small smile, wiping her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Quite the joke on old Sal, and the perfect death for him. Shot in the face by someone he considered worthless, someone who used to be in his power. Got a real nice irony to it, doncha think?"

Harley nodded slowly. "Yeah. I guess it is kinda funny," she whispered.

He began gently running his hands over the blood that coated her flesh. "You look so…beautiful like this," he whispered. "So beautiful, Harley."

"Nah, I feel disgusting," she murmured. "I'm gonna go get a shower, Mr. J."

She tried to stand up, but he held her firmly, and suddenly began licking the blood off her hand and arm, working his way up her body. Harley was thrilled despite herself at the feel of his tongue, wet and warm, caressing her skin. "Oh…Mr. J!" she gasped. "Oh…Mr. J!"

"Tell me all about it, baby," he whispered, licking her face and pressing her down on the bed. "Tell me all about how you killed them. Give me details. Let me imagine it as I dominate the gal who killed Sal Valestra."

She lay in his gentle but firm embrace afterward as he smoked his usual cigarette. "You're the only man who can do those things to the gal who killed Sal Valestra, y'know," murmured Harley.

He chuckled, and then kissed her tenderly. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, the gal who killed Sal Valestra. Has kinda a nice ring to it, huh?"

"Mmm hmm," she whispered, kissing him. "Do I have your permission to get a shower now?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah, if you gotta," he sighed. "But you should think about wearing nothing but blood more often, toots. It's a real turn on."

"You're such a bad boy," she whispered, kissing his nose as she stood up.

He slapped her bottom playfully. "And you're a very bad girl," he said, grinning. "Daddy should spank you real hard for what you've done."

"Wait until I get cleaned up, Mr. Greedy," she retorted, smiling at him. She kissed him again and disappeared into the bathroom, and Jack smoked for a few more minutes. He pulled on his robe and then stood up, gazing at the bodies of Sal and Buzz and puffing on his cigarette thoughtfully.

Then he went over to Harley's phone and dialled a number. "Hi, Chuckie, it's Jack. If I give you an address, can you get over here as soon as possible? A little situation has arisen and I need someone to help me get rid of some bodies. No, nobody important – just get over here. See you soon."

He hung up the phone as Harley emerged from the shower, wearing a towel. "Who'd you call?" she asked.

"Chuckie," he replied. "I need someone with muscle to help me clear out the bodies, before they start to rot. It ain't a nice smell, rotting corpses. You certainly don't want it in your apartment."

"Ain't Chuckie gonna be shocked when he finds out who it is?" asked Harley.

"Probably," he retorted. "Can't hide it forever though. And ain't it best to share good news as soon as possible?"

"Good news?" repeated Harley.

"Yeah. The Valestra gang has got a new leader," said Jack, smiling at her. "Course it ain't called the Valestra gang anymore."

"Well, you can't call it the Napier gang," said Harley.

He pinched her cheek affectionately. "How about the J gang, toots?" he murmured.

"I like the sound of that," whispered Harley, kissing him tenderly. She smiled. "Think we got time for a quick spanking before Chuckie gets here, Mr. J? Your little Harley girl does need to be punished for spilling the gangsters' brains all over the floor and making such a mess for you to clean up."

"Pooh, you read my mind!" he chuckled, pushing her back down on the bed.


	15. Chapter 14

Chuckie knocked on the door, and Harley opened it a second later. "Hi, Chuckie, c'mon in," she said.

"H…Harley," he stammered, surprised. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again. What're you doing here?"

"This is where I live, Chuckie," she replied, smiling. "But not for much longer."

"Yeah? You planning on moving?" asked Chuckie as he entered the living room.

"Yeah, I am, Chuckie," she said, nodding. "Moving back in with you guys actually."

"Really?" said Chuckie, astonished. "But won't Sal…not like that?"

Harley grinned. "Don't think he'll have much to say on the subject, really," she giggled.

Chuckie was shocked again to see Jack enter the room, take Harley in his arms, and kiss her passionately. "Oh…you two are…um…" he stammered.

"We're a couple, Chuckie, yeah," said Harley, beaming at Jack. "And I ain't ever been so happy."

"Oh…well…congratulations," said Chuckie. "That's…nice. Glad you're both happy."

"Yeah, we really are, Chuckie," chuckled Jack. "And there's even more good news! C'mere," he said, beckoning him.

Chuckie followed him into the next room and froze when he saw the bodies on the floor. "Oh," he managed to stammer at last. "Oh…right."

"Think you can give me a hand with moving them, Chuckie?" asked Jack. "Maybe to the river?"

"Yes…boss," stammered Chuckie, rolling up his sleeves.

Chuckie wasn't a man who enjoyed bloodshed. He thought killing was generally a waste, and the fact that one of his comrades had apparently killed two of his other comrades in cold blood made him pretty uncomfortable. It made him even more uncomfortable watching Jack mutilate the faces and bodies of Sal and Buzz so they couldn't be identified. The car journey with Jack to the river and back to dump the bodies was an awkward one for him. But they drove to Harley's apartment afterward, where she had prepared a very large and delicious meal for all three of them, and after his belly was full and he had enjoyed a couple glasses of whiskey, he was inclined to feel better about the whole affair. There was nothing he could do about it anyway but accept it. And he liked Harley. She and Jack weren't a natural couple in his mind – he was puzzled by the fact that a nice, young, pretty girl like Harley would want an older, strange, and cruel man like Jack, but there was no accounting for taste. Chuckie just liked seeing Harley happy. And he had never seen anyone as happy as she was with Jack.

"So here's my immediate plan for the future of the gang, Chuckie," said Jack, nursing a glass of whiskey with Harley seated on his lap, gazing at him in adoration. "Obviously since the regrettable loss of two of our members, we're gonna need to expand. So if you can start spreading the world among the underworld to let them know there's a new leader of the gang who wants recruits, I'd be grateful."

"Sure thing, boss," replied Chuckie.

"I'm gonna warn you right now that I'm a little more of an ambitious man than Sal was, so our targets are gonna be a little more ambitious," continued Jack. "If you ain't comfortable with that, I'm giving you the option of leaving the gang now. No consequences, and no strings. You've been a good comrade all these years, and you've always been nice to Harley. If you wanna part ways, I won't hold it against you."

Chuckie shrugged. "I dunno what else I'd do, boss. This is all I know, and I'd rather work with a guy I was comfortable with than go off and join another strange gang."

Jack nodded. "Thanks, Chuckie. I'm grateful, I ain't gonna lie. It's nice to know I have a guy I can trust working for me. And one I can trust Harley with," he said, smiling tenderly at her. "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to her because she got involved with me."

Harley laughed. "As if you could stop me getting involved with you," she murmured, kissing him.

"I'll help you look after her, boss," replied Chuckie, firmly.

"Thanks, boys, but I don't need you to look after me," retorted Harley.

"You do, toots, you ain't a criminal like us," replied Jack.

"Really?" she asked, grinning at him.

He kissed her. "Just because you committed a crime don't make you suited to the life of a criminal," he murmured. "It's dangerous. Dangerous in a way you can't really train yourself for. If I'm honest, Harley, I'd rather you stayed outta it."

"Well, you can't make me stay outta your life," she retorted, firmly. "I mean, what do you expect me to do, Mr. J? Just go back to being a shrink? I can't return to a normal life now. I can't just go back to pretending I'm a normal person. I ain't. I won't be forced to hide who I am anymore. And I don't wanna ever be apart from you if I can avoid it," she whispered, stroking his hair back.

He sighed heavily and nodded. "I know it won't do any good to argue with you, kiddo. You're a spoiled brat, so you're gonna have your way. I'm just glad we got both Chuckie and me to keep you safe. Anybody tries to touch a hair on your head, and I'm gonna cut them up good. They'll have permanent smiles of agony carved into their faces."

She grinned. "If you're gonna talk dirty like that, you better get Chuckie outta here so we can go to bed," she murmured, kissing him.

He chuckled, standing up. "You can go back to your brother's, Chuckie. I ain't gonna make you stay away from the people who are important to you like Sal did. Remember, spread the word about the recruitment and lemme know if you hear anything – I'll be in touch."

"Night, Chuckie," said Harley, leading him to the door. "You sleep well, and take care of yourself. Mr. J and me will see you soon."

She kissed his cheek and shut the door. Chuckie remained staring at it for a few minutes, trying to fully process all that had happened. Then he shrugged, heading for his car. He certainly had a lot to tell Harry.


	16. Chapter 15

Harley was watching TV in bed, the covers pulled up around her body, when Jack entered, shutting the door behind him. She beamed at him. "Guys ready for tomorrow?" she asked.

"I think so," he replied, nodding. "It ain't gonna be an easy operation, but I think it'll be worth it. We better get an early night too. I wanna be well rested."

"You mean no playtime tonight?" said Harley, frowning.

He chuckled. "Well, I can't say no to those big baby blues, can I, pooh?" he murmured, kissing her. She squeaked happily and watched him as he undressed.

"You're so beautiful," she murmured.

He grinned at her. "You're crazy, kid, you know that?" he whispered, coming over to her and kissing her. "Of the two of us, I ain't the one who's beautiful," he murmured, touching her cheek gently.

"I ain't crazy," she retorted. "I'm just in love with you, that's all."

"Same thing, ain't it?" he murmured.

She grinned and pulled him down to her as he devoured her mouth. Then the TV said, "Our top story tonight, the former Valestra gang, now headed by one Jack Napier, has committed yet another successful and daring robbery on the Gotham Natural History Museum…"

"Oooh, we're on, pooh!" chuckled Jack, sitting up suddenly. She giggled, cuddling against him as they watched pictures of them and their targets flash onto the TV.

"…the famous Harlequin diamond was stolen in the robbery…"

Jack laughed. "Show me the rock, kiddo," he said.

"I'm wearing it, Mr. J!" said Harley, happily, pulling aside the covers to reveal a large diamond hanging from a necklace. "And nothing else," she added, grinning at him.

He chuckled again, climbing under the covers and embracing her gently. "Suits you, baby," he whispered, kissing her. "You should always be wearing diamonds and nothing else."

She snuggled against him as they both focused back on the TV. "…since Jack Napier's takeover three months ago, the gang now known as the J gang has committed an unprecedented, violent crime spree the likes of which Gotham has never seen. They are unique not only for their daring and ambitious series of crimes, which have baffled police, but also for their inclusion of a female member, Dr. Harleen Quinzel, formerly a hostage of the gang, now an accomplice of Jack Napier, and rumored to be his partner both personally and professionally. The couple has been labelled a modern day Bonnie and Clyde, but are certainly much more dangerous. With the law seemingly powerless against these criminals, the decent citizens of Gotham can only hope they will once again be rescued from this reign of terror by the city's mysterious masked vigilante hero, Batman…"

Jack suddenly switched off the TV, and Harley snorted. "Yeah, right. As if a flying rodent could ever stop us."

"Nothing's gonna stop us, kiddo," Jack murmured. "We're gonna bleed this city dry, and then we're gonna go live together somewhere nice, buy an island in the Caribbean, maybe. Just you, me, and nobody else in the world."

She kissed him tenderly. "Sounds like paradise, puddin'," she whispered.

"It will be, Harley, I promise you," he murmured, stroking her hair back from her face. "You deserve paradise. You deserve to be smiling all the time, every minute of every day, because it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. You deserve all the happiness in the world, because I love you, kid."

He kissed her. "I already got all the happiness in the world," she whispered, smiling at him. "I got you, puddin'."

He grinned, and then pressed her gently down on the bed.

Afterwards, Harley was about to doze off in his arms, when she suddenly remembered. "Puddin'?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

"This job tomorrow…I thought I'd tell Chuckie to have the getaway car ready. You know he don't like to get his hands dirty so I thought he'd be the driver."

"Good idea, pooh," he whispered. "Go to sleep now."

"What's the name of the place? I keep forgetting."

He yawned. "Ace Chemicals," he muttered.

"That's right – Ace. Should be easy for me to remember, what with it being a playing card name and all. I mean, I wouldn't have forgotten if it was Joker Chemicals," she said, beaming at him.

He smiled and kissed her again, cuddling her against him. "I love you, my wild card," he whispered. "Night, Harley."

"I love you too, Mr. J," she whispered, snuggling into his arms. "Night, my Joker."


	17. Chapter 16

"C'mon, sport, just get the safe open and I promise I won't hurt you," said Jack, puffing on his cigarette as he held a gun to the head of the timid, frightened hostage.

"I…I don't know the combination," he stammered.

Jack sighed heavily. "Well, that's a real shame, ain't it, Harl? Got a joke for you, sweets."

"Go ahead, Mr. J," she said, grinning.

"What do you call a guy who can't open a safe?"

"I dunno," she replied.

He chuckled, "You call him useless. And you know what I do to useless people, doncha, Harley?" he said, cocking the gun.

"No, no, wait, don't shoot!" he cried. "I'll…do what you want."

He crawled over to the safe and began turning the dial. Jack laughed again, sitting down in the office chair and pulling Harley into his lap, keeping his gun fixed on the hostage. "Y'see what you can do with the proper motivation, kid?" he said, smiling at her. "It's amazing how the threat of death can really jog people's memory."

"Mmm, you're so clever, puddin'," she breathed, kissing him. "My gorgeous genius."

The radio at Jack's belt crackled. "Boss, the cops are just leaving the station. We got about twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Bill," said Jack, smiling. He stood up. "We're gonna need you to hurry along with that safe, sport," he said, grinning.

"I've…I've almost got it, I promise," he stammered. A second later, the door swung open and Jack looked inside, laughing.

"We've hit the Jackpot on this one, kiddo!" he exclaimed, beaming at Harley. "Get it? Jack-pot?"

"Sure do, Mr. J," she giggled. "Rick, Joe, get in here!" she called. Two henchmen rushed into the office and began loading up the loot into sacks.

Jack finished his cigarette and then crushed it on the ground, raising his gun to the hostage's face. "Y'know when I said if you opened the safe, I promised not to hurt you?" he murmured, grinning.

"Y…yeah," he stammered.

Jack pulled the trigger. "Only joking!" he laughed, as the body fell to the ground. "C'mon, Harl, let's beat it," he chuckled, taking her hand as they left the office.

The two henchmen went ahead with the money as Jack and Harley followed behind them, walking back the way they came, along one of the series of platforms over the huge vats of acid, churning and glowing a strange, fluorescent green. Harley paused, looking over the rail.

"Don't get dizzy and fall, kid!" chuckled Jack, seizing her around the waist and shaking her.

"Mr. J! Stop!" she giggled, kissing him. "What do you suppose is in that crap?" she asked, nodding down.

"A whole lotta nasty chemicals," he replied. "Probably melt your flesh off. Which would be such a pity with flesh as pretty as yours," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

She beamed at him. "We don't have time for this, Mr. J – we gotta get outta here before the cops come," she whispered. "Plus inhaling all these fumes can't be healthy."

He nodded. "Yeah, they're probably pretty toxic," he agreed, lighting another cigarette. He laughed again, dropping the match into one of the vats and watching it suddenly burst into flame. "Highly flammable too!" he laughed. "Let's go, baby!"

The fire escalated quickly, growing high enough to reach the catwalk, and Jack and Harley hurried away from it, heading down the stairs. Suddenly a dark figure appeared in front of them on the steps, blocking their path.

Jack smiled. "You again?" he chuckled. "Thought I taught you to keep your pointy nose outta our business!"

He fired his gun at Batman, who leapt out of the way, disappearing up into the shadows of the rafters above them. Jack looked around for him, walking carefully down the stairs with Harley following him. She was suddenly seized from behind and lifted off her feet. "Mr. J!" she screamed, struggling against Batman as he fired his grappling gun and tried to pull her up with him back into the rafters. Jack whirled around and fired, hitting Batman in the arm. He hissed, dropping Harley suddenly. She hit the platform hard, cutting her forehead against the metal of the catwalk and gasping in pain.

Jack rushed over to her, tilting her head up to see blood running down her face. His eyes widened in horror. "He hurt you," he whispered, touching her cut.

"It's nothing, Mr. J, let's just get outta here," she muttered, struggling to her feet and grabbing his hand as the fire climbed higher, filling the room with smoke.

He shook her off. "You go," he hissed, his eyes now suddenly narrowed and bright with fury. "I'm gonna make him pay."

"No, Mr. J, just let it go!" she pleaded. "It ain't safe, and he…"

Batman suddenly dropped down in front of them again. Jack fired at him repeatedly, knocking him backward onto one of the other platforms and into a cloud of smoke. He was about to follow him when Harley grabbed him. "Please, Mr. J, don't!" she cried. "Leave him! Let's just go!"

"You think I'm gonna let a guy do that to my doll and just let him live?!" shouted Jack, furiously. "What did I promise to do to anyone who touched a hair on your head?! He's gonna die, Harley! I'm gonna kill the freak once and for all!"

"No, Mr. J, it's too dangerous!" she shrieked, but he broke away from her, racing after Batman.

Harley rushed to follow him, but was impeded by the smoke, which stung her eyes and blinded her. She coughed, clutching the rail of the platform tightly and feeling her way along the edge. The smoke cleared and she could see Mr. J on the opposite platform, looking carefully around for Batman with his gun drawn.

Harley suddenly saw Batman appear behind him. "Mr. J!" she screamed, racing toward them. He whirled around and fired at Batman, who knocked the gun from his hand, and then kicked him backward. He fell hard against the railing, which had become brittle from the flames licking against it. It snapped, and Jack fell.

Harley's world seemed to stop. She saw him fall down, down, down, as if in slow motion. Even her scream seemed to have frozen on her lips, and then suddenly burst forth in unimaginable agony that welled up from the bottom of her soul, "NO!"

He hit the acid and it immediately consumed him. Time returned to its normal speed as Harley dashed over to where he had fallen and attempted to throw herself in after him.

She was suddenly seized by a pair of strong arms. "Don't," murmured Batman's voice. "He's gone."

"He ain't!" she screamed, in agony, pummeling him. "He ain't! He ain't! He ain't! And if he is, I'm gonna go with him! Let go of me!"

She wrenched herself away and jumped. She was about to hit the acid when she was caught in mid-air by Batman, who swung over the vat and burst through the window. They both landed safely outside. Batman released her and she immediately started back towards the building. He grabbed her again. "You're coming with me, Dr. Quinzel," he said, firmly.

"I ain't going anywhere without Mr. J!" she shrieked.

The chemical factory suddenly exploded in a blaze of smoke and flame, collapsing in on itself. Explosion followed more explosions, and Harley could only watch in horror, with tears running down her face.

She felt Batman's hand on her shoulder again. "Jack Napier is dead, Dr. Quinzel," he murmured.

Her agony instantly turned to rage. "It's your fault, all your fault, and I'm gonna kill you for it!" she screamed, hitting him mercilessly. "I'm gonna…"

Batman knocked her backward and she fell to the ground. He dragged her toward the waiting Batmobile. Shoving her into the backseat, he started the engine and drove off without another word.

Harley felt numbness gradually replacing the rage. She couldn't tear her streaming eyes away from the flaming wreckage of the factory. Somewhere under all that rubble was the body of the man she loved, the most wonderful man in the world, a criminal genius, but more importantly, her soulmate. The man she had loved, and who had loved her, beyond reason. With a kind of mad love, a kind of insanity…and now he was gone forever.

They drove over the river surrounding the factory, and Harley saw that it glowed slightly. She fixated on little details to avoid facing the big, horrible truth, that the man she loved was dead, and she was never going to be happy again. Her thoughts wandered away from that terrible fact, wandered idly. She wondered why the river was glowing. Probably the waste from the chemical plant. It probably went through some pipes and into the river. Lots of chemical factories did illegal dumping like that – it was cheaper than having to dispose of it properly. Probably a lotta the stuff from the factory ended up in the…

She was seized by a sudden, mad, desperate hope, but it was a hope nevertheless, and she clung onto it. Before she had time to think, she wrenched open the door of the Batmobile and rolled out of the still-moving vehicle. It screeched to a halt, but Harley had jumped to her feet and scrambled off. She hid in the shadows of one of the neighboring buildings and watched as Batman carefully looked around for her, and then gradually drove off.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she made her way slowly toward the riverbank, her heart pounding in fear, in excitement, in insane hope. If he had ended up in the river, he could have drowned. His body could have been washed miles out. She wouldn't necessarily find anything. But what if he was, somehow, miraculously, alive? It wasn't possible, but she couldn't help hoping. Hope was cruel, but it was all she had left now.

She wandered along the riverbank for hours, searching every inch of it. Her heart gradually sank as she found nothing. She sat down heavily at the edge of the water, burying her face in her hands, sobbing and giving herself up to her despair.

She suddenly heard a strange noise. It was someone laughing. Hysterically, maniaically, like no laugh she had ever heard before, and yet there was something incredibly familiar about it. Or maybe it was just hope deceiving her again.

She struggled to her feet and followed the sound. It was coming from a small ditch just off the river, leading into a tiny basin where the water formed a shallow pool. Harley made her way carefully along the edge of the ditch and reached the basin, looking down into it.

There was a man seated by the edge of the pool. He was looking at his reflection and laughing. It was the most terrifying laugh she had ever heard, for there was no mirth, no happiness in it, only a kind of mad despair, and it frightened her. The man had his back to her, and Harley could see nothing but his suit, a strange purple color, and what looked liked green hair, but that could be the moonlight playing tricks on her. She suddenly noticed that he was dripping wet, but it wasn't water that fell off him. It was a kind of glowing, green liquid…

Her heart stopped. "Puddin'?" she gasped.

He turned at the sound, and Harley's eyes widened in horror. "Oh...Jesus Christ," she gasped.

The man who was facing her was indeed Jack Napier, or at least, that was who he had been. But his skin had been bleached white, and his lips were dyed a bright red, and turned up in the most hideous smile, like the death-grin of a skull. His white fingers were entwined tightly in his green hair, and he kept laughing even as water streamed from his eyes. It was impossible to tell whether he was crying in pain, in joy, or if it was just the water from the river running down his face.

"Oh…puddin'!" gasped Harley, her horror instantly turning to pity, to relief, to a hundred different emotions. She seized him tightly in her arms and kissed him desperately. "Oh, puddin'! Oh, Mr. J! Oh, thank God you're alive! Thank God! Oh, I thought I lost you! I would've gone crazy, I…"

He shoved himself away from her, looking at her with his same intense eyes, but…changed slightly. She saw confusion in them...confusion and…something else, some strange spark that she had only ever seen shadows of before, but that had suddenly consumed his eyes, although they still glowed as brightly as ever. He studied her with that same terrible smile, and laughed slightly. "Who…who are you?" he asked.

She stared at him. "Puddin', it's me," she whispered. "It's…it's Harley! You must recognize your Harley girl…"

"Harley," he repeated. He chuckled. "Harley." He laughed hysterically, which deteriorated into a choking sob. "Oh, Harley!" he exclaimed, seizing her in his arms.

She shushed him, holding him tightly against her as his body shook, although she couldn't tell whether he was laughing or crying. "Harley…Harley…tell me…what happened," he murmured, drawing away at last. "I don't remember…I don't remember anything…I was falling…"

"Yeah, puddin', you fell," she whispered. "But you're all right now. Your Harley girl is here, and she's gonna take care of you."

"Falling," he repeated, running his fingers through his hair and shutting his eyes tightly. "Falling. There was a bat…"

"Yeah, yeah, he's gonna pay, puddin'," she breathed, soothingly, kissing him. "We're gonna make him pay real good for what he's done to you…"

"Blood everywhere," he murmured. "Blood and bodies and…and you," he whispered, gazing at her. "You…you…Harley…I love you…"

"I love you too, puddin'," she whispered. "Always and forever."

He kissed her passionately, devouring her mouth. "You," he whispered. "Harley. My Harley girl. My little hostage…you…deserved better than a guy like me…you…Sal didn't want you, Sal didn't want hostages…"

He shut his eyes tightly. "Hostages," he repeated. "Gangsters. Crime. Killing. Never gets boring…I've killed a lotta people, so many people…he was first, he deserved it, strangled him, it felt so good…" He laughed hysterically again. "Couldn't….couldn't…stop…laughing!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath in between laughs. "Couldn't…stop…"

He kept laughing, and Harley didn't know what to do, other than hold him and try to soothe him. He was babbling, babbling like someone who had gone…

"Mad!" he exclaimed, still laughing. "She went mad! The joke of sanity, Harley, doncha get it?! The joke on the whole world is that we all go around thinking we're sane and really…really…it's a killer punchline, Harley girl!" he cackled. "Really…we're all crazy! Doncha see it, Harl?! I do now! I finally see it! The world's a madhouse, and we're all a bunch of lunatics locked inside it! We go about our crazy little lives, thinking they're important, but they ain't important at all, because we're all nuts! We all think we're rational and sane and orderly, and the joke, the joke is…we're all completely mad!"

He fell to the ground, laughing uncontrollably. Harley watched him in horror, tears flowing silently down her cheeks.

He gradually stopped laughing, although he kept giggling as he struggled to his feet and looked at her with his shining eyes. "Why…why ain't you laughing, Harley?" he gasped. "Doncha think it's a funny joke?"

"Sure, Mr. J," she breathed.

He giggled again, putting a hand to his forehead. "Harley, you're a shrink," he said, smiling at her.

"Yeah, I am, puddin'," she agreed.

"You tell me something, then, sweets," he chuckled. He looked at her, and for a moment his eyes were filled with indescribable pain as he gazed at her, pleadingly, "Have I…gone crazy?"

She shook her head slowly. "Nah uh, Mr. J," she said, firmly.

He grinned. "That's right," he said, kissing her. "That's right, pooh. Because nobody can go crazy, because we already are all crazy, y'see? I ain't…I ain't gone crazy, have I, Harl?" he repeated, his smile dropping suddenly. "I ain't…gone crazy."

He seized her suddenly, gazing into her eyes in desperation. "I ain't gone crazy, have I?!" he cried.

"No, Mr. J, no!" she murmured soothingly, embracing him again. "No, you ain't. You're just a little…upset at the moment. You…you've had an accident, and you ain't quite thinking straight, but your Harley girl is gonna get you better. I'm gonna take care of you, and things are gonna go back to the way they were. I'm gonna make everything right again, I promise."

"Harley…Harley…you have to help me," he whispered, clutching her tightly. "I can't be mad…I can't…you gotta…you gotta fix me, Harley, please…I can't lose my mind! It's….it's all I got!"

She kissed him. "You got me," she whispered, staring into his eyes. "You got me. And I ain't ever leaving you, puddin'."

He clung to her, and she soothed him. "No matter what happens, I ain't ever leaving you."


	18. Chapter 17

Chuckie heard a slap, and a scream, and then someone shouting, "Get outta here, you worthless brat!" He looked up as the door to the bedroom shut, and Harley emerged. His heart twisted to see not one but two black eyes, and numerous bruises covering her pretty face.

"How's the boss?" he asked quietly.

"Same as always," she murmured, heading to the kitchen for some ice. She sat down across from him, not saying a word, just holding the ice against her eye.

"You can't let him keep treating you like this…" began Chuckie.

"He don't know what he's doing," she interrupted. "He don't do it on purpose, he just can't control it. He becomes upset and agitated and he lashes out. You can't blame him. None of us can understand what he's going through."

Chuckie turned off the TV. "Harley, it's been six weeks," he said, quietly. "When are you gonna realize that Jack ain't coming back?"

Harley shut her eyes tightly. "I dunno what you're talking about, Chuckie," she murmured. "Jack's just in the other room."

"Harley, you know what I mean," he said, gently. "The guy in the other room…ain't Jack. That guy may kinda resemble him, but when I look at him, I don't see anything of Jack left. He ain't in there anymore."

Harley sighed, putting her head in her hands. "The chemicals…did something to his mind," she whispered. "He ain't right. But I can help him, Chuckie. I gotta believe I can help him. I can't bear to lose him."

"But you have lost him, Harley," murmured Chuckie, quietly. "You gotta accept that. Jack's gone."

She started crying and he came over to try to comfort her, but she suddenly shoved him away, glaring up at him defiantly. "No!" she hissed. "No, Chuckie, I can't give up on him like that! He _is_ Jack, he's the man I love, and if you think I can just forget that…"

"He's forgotten you," murmured Chuckie. "The Jack I knew would never have treated you like that."

Harley touched her black eye tenderly. "He does remember me," she murmured. "He remembers the strangest things, so very clearly…he remembers what I was wearing when he first saw me, and what he served me for my first meal as his hostage, and the first time we made…"

She shut her eyes tightly again, trying to squeeze back her tears. "He does remember things," she repeated. "But he can't remember everything, and that upsets him. Think about how you would feel, Chuckie, if most of your past just seemed one big blur. He gets confused and frustrated and he takes his rage out on whatever or whoever is nearest him. And because I love him, that's usually me. He doesn't mean to hurt me. I just get in the way."

Chuckie gazed at her tenderly. "You should never settle for just being in someone's way, Harley," he murmured. "You're worth more than that."

"What do you suggest I do, Chuckie?" she demanded. "Just leave him? Get him locked up in some asylum and try to forget about him? You think I could ever do that? I ain't that heartless. I love him, I always have and I always will, and I'm gonna stand by him and take care of him, whatever happens. He needs me. He don't say it, but I know he does. If you knew the way he looked at me, with those pleading, gorgeous eyes, Mr. J's eyes, looking so scared and so lost, like a child…" She broke off, shutting her eyes again. "He needs me," she whispered. "He loves me."

She wiped her eyes. "What would you do if the person you loved lost their mind, Chuckie?" she whispered. "Mr. J's still in there somewhere – I know it. I can feel him, and I can see him, when he looks at me sometimes…and to tell you the truth, I don't know if he really remembers our love anymore. But do you stop loving a guy just for that? No. No, I…don't. I…can't. He's still Mr. J, and I love him for the man he was, the man he still is, deep down. And some days he don't recognize me, and some days he is just crazy and violent, but I gotta stay with him, for the days he does and isn't. The pain's worth it, to be with Mr. J again, however briefly. Just to be near him, to be held in his arms…the man I love is worth suffering for, he always has been. And the moments he remembers, the moments when he realizes who I am, are just so wonderful…he still loves me, despite all that's happened to him. Our love has survived. Nothing on earth could kill it, this tragedy couldn't erase it, and I won't be the one to break it. I'm gonna fight for it, and I'm gonna fight for him, Chuckie. As long as it takes."

Chuckie took her hand. "It ain't just for your own sake, or for his, that you need to think about sending Jack away," he murmured. "You've done a great job leading the gang in his place, Harley. There's nobody who admires you or what you've done more than I do. But the boys and I have been talking, and while we'd be happy to continue working for you, if you plan on letting Jack lead the gang again…well, we ain't comfortable with following him when he's in this state. Nobody likes working for an unpredictable guy – you never know when you could end up with a bullet in your brain."

Harley stared at him. "You don't think I have enough to worry about at the moment without wondering whether my gang is gonna mutiny?" she murmured.

"It ain't anything like that, Harley," said Chuckie reassuringly. "We ain't gonna mutiny, we just want you to prove that you're not gonna let Jack takeover the gang again by showing us you're willing to send him away…"

Harley smashed her fist against the arm of the chair. "Are you trying to drive me crazy too, Chuckie?!" she shrieked. "Asking me to even consider sending Mr. J away?! I don't wanna think about that right now! All I do is think and worry, about Mr. J, about the gang, about Batman, one problem after another! There's no escape from my thoughts! I would give anything not to have to think anymore, but sadly I ain't insane! Mr. J don't know how good he's got it now, not to have to worry about all this crap! He's free and happy, and Jesus Christ, I wish I could join him!"

She stood up and rushed from the room, sobbing, with Chuckie staring after her in pity.


	19. Chapter 18

Jack was sleeping peacefully later that night, and Harley was lying next to him, gazing at him tenderly. It was unusual for him to be sleeping like this nowadays – he was usually restless, tossing and turning and moaning in pain, and sometimes he would wake up screaming from the nightmares. Harley didn't know if they were bad dreams or bad memories, but she did her best to soothe him and help him sleep again. Now his poor, ravaged face was relaxed, and his breathing was calm. Harley shut her eyes and kissed his forehead gently. He didn't wake up, and she was relieved. He needed his rest.

She stroked his green hair back from his white face. He was still beautiful, even like this. Still the most beautiful man she had ever seen. "Puddin'," she breathed. "My poor, poor puddin'. I wish I knew how to help you. I wish I knew what was going on inside your gorgeous head."

She drew closer to him, tentatively pulling one of his arms over her. He sighed, and instinctively embraced her tightly. Harley beamed in happiness, feeling tears come to her eyes.

"You gotta come back to me, Mr. J," she whispered, burying her face in his white chest. "You gotta come back, please. I…I can't do this on my own anymore. I ain't strong enough. I need you to be my strength…without you, I'm…I'm…lost and scared and alone. I can't be alone anymore, Mr. J. I can't take it…"

She choked on a sob. "I don't know how to help you," she whispered. "I don't know what I can say or do…I…I…just need you. You've gone someplace far away, but you gotta come back to me. Please, puddin', come back. Come back to your Harley girl."

He continued to breathe gently. "Or let me go with you," she whispered. "Wherever you've gone, let me follow you. Even if it's someplace dark and terrifying, I wanna go with you. I wanna be with you whatever else happens. If there are monsters to fight, I want us to fight them together. I'm not afraid when I'm with you, Mr. J. I'm not afraid of anything."

He sighed again, and Harley couldn't resist bringing her lips to his. She kissed him tenderly. "I'll do whatever it takes to be with you again," she whispered, desperately. "Nothing else matters as long as we're together. If I have to go crazy too, I'll…I'll go crazy too. I don't have the strength to fight it anymore. I just wanna be with you, even in insanity. Will that make everything better, Mr. J? If I'm crazy too? Will you love me again if I lose my mind?"

He tightened his embrace, shifting slightly in sleep. "Harley," he murmured.

"I'm here, puddin'," she breathed, stroking his hair back. "I'm here."

She kissed him again and he returned it. Harley felt happiness rushing through her again, and she shut her eyes, savoring the feeling she had been without for such a long time. She pulled him on top of her, but he drew away suddenly. She opened her eyes to gaze into his bright, terrified ones.

"What?" she whispered. "What is it?"

"Harley," he breathed, brushing a finger along her lips. His eyes were filled with pain. "Harley, what's wrong with me?"

"I dunno, puddin'," she murmured. "I dunno."

"Am I crazy?"

"I…dunno."

"How can you love a man you don't know?"

"I do know you, puddin'," she whispered. "I know everything about my Mr. J."

"I…ain't your Mr. J, Harley," he breathed.

"Yes, you are, puddin'," she murmured, soothingly. "You always will be, no matter what happens."

He shut his eyes tightly. "I'm so tired, Harley," he whispered. "So tired."

"Then you go back to sleep, Mr. J," she breathed, pushing him gently back down on the bed. "You go to sleep, and try not to think about anything. Your Harley girl will look after you."

She drew away from him, but he seized her suddenly and kissed her again. "I love you," he whispered, pulling her back down to him. "I love you so much."

Harley returned his kisses, climbing on top of him. He moaned slightly and suddenly pushed her off him. "No," he whispered. "No, you don't want…"

"Yes, I do," she whispered firmly, trying to kiss him again. He held her back, looking pleadingly into her eyes.

"You'll only catch it too," he whispered.

"What?" she asked.

"The madness," he murmured. "I don't want you catching the madness. It's horrible…so, so horrible…"

He shut his eyes tightly, and held her against him. "You know what she used to say, Harley?" he whispered. "When I visited her in the madhouse?"

"Who? Your mother?" asked Harley gently.

"She used to say 'Don't you worry, Jack. Daddy will be here soon. He'll take us home, and we'll all be happy. Daddy will be here soon.'"

Harley didn't respond. "I dunno why I remember that," he murmured. "I forgot about it for a long time, but now I suddenly remember that. But I can't remember…so many things. I can't remember…"

Harley put her hand to his lips; he was beginning to get agitated. "Just calm down, puddin'," she breathed. "Calm down and try to sleep. Your Harley girl is here."

She tried to hold him, but he suddenly rolled over to face away from her. Harley curled up alone and tried to sleep, but she couldn't hold back the tears running down her face.

She awoke later that night to see that the light was on in the bathroom. She sat up and saw Jack standing by the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror, his normally smiling face set in a firm line, and his eyes narrowed in confusion.

Harley stood up and pulled on her robe, coming over to him. "Puddin'? You wanna come back to bed?" she asked gently.

"Who am I, Harley?" he asked, quietly.

"I dunno what you mean, puddin'," she said.

"Who am I?" he repeated, shutting his eyes. "I knew a second ago, I remembered, and now I've forgotten. I…can't remember anymore. I can't remember who I am."

"Puddin'…" she began again, but he suddenly smashed his fist into the mirror, shattering it.

"I can't remember who I am!" he shouted, furiously. "Why can't I remember?! Who am I?!" he roared, seizing her and shaking her violently. "Tell me who I am!"

"Puddin', please, try to calm down…" she said. He suddenly grabbed a shard of broken mirror and shoved her backward, so she fell onto the bed. He was on top of her in an instant, holding the shard against her throat. His hand had been cut and the blood trickled down his fingers and onto her skin, mingling with her own blood where the glass was cutting into her flesh.

"Tell me," he hissed, furiously. "Tell me who I am!"

"You're Mr. J," she whispered. "My Mr. J. You've always been my Mr. J, who I love more than life itself. That's all. My Mr. J, who I've always loved and always will. You remember, puddin'? My Mr. J."

He was still glaring down at her, and she shut her eyes. "You go ahead and kill me, Mr. J," she breathed. "We all gotta die sometime, and I've always dreamed of dying with you. I ain't got nothing left to live for anyway, if you're really that far gone. If you've forgotten our love so much that you can kill me, I ain't got no reason to stay alive."

His breathing had been ragged, but it slowly calmed and she opened her eyes to see him gazing at her in tenderness, the way Mr. J used to. "Harley," he whispered, dropping the glass and burying his face in her chest. "Oh, Harley!"

He sobbed and Harley shushed him, holding him gently. "It's ok, puddin'," she breathed. "It's ok, I'm here."

They didn't say a word as the minutes ticked by on the clock. Then Jack slowly sat up, and Harley saw her Mr. J in his eyes. He touched her face gently. "Harley, you gotta leave me," he murmured. "I…ain't gonna get any better. I can feel myself getting worse, day by day. I…I already hurt you, and I'm just gonna keep hurting you. You gotta leave me, please. For your own sake, and for mine. You deserve so much better…"

Harley silenced him with a kiss. "What did I say?" she murmured. "What have I always said? I don't want better. I want you, Mr. J, just the way you are. I love you. Nothing's gonna change that."

He shook his head. "I'm crazy, Harl…"

"So am I," she interrupted. "I'm crazy in love with you," she said, managing a smile. "I'm staying with you, puddin', no matter what. Just get that through your thick skull."

He smiled back at her, and sighed. "I guess you gotta have your way, you spoiled brat."

"Uh huh," she said, grinning and kissing him again.

"I love you," he murmured. "I want you to know that. I may not always be able to say it, but I do."

"I know, Mr. J," she whispered. "That's how I can bear all this crap. Without your love, I'd…go crazy."

He smiled. "So you need the madness to keep you sane?"

"Something like that," she agreed.

He laughed, one his hysterical laughs, and Harley feared he was going to lose himself again. But he didn't. His eyes fell on the bloodied shard of glass by the bed, and then traveled over to see the blood on his hands and her. "Christ, Harley, I'm sorry," he murmured. "C'mere, let's clean you up."

He pulled her into the bathroom and began washing the cut on her neck. He rinsed his own hands and then Harley gently bandaged them. She saw him looking at his reflection in the broken mirror.

"I'm a monster, Harley," he murmured.

"No," she whispered, soothingly. "No, no, you're beautiful, puddin'. You'll always be beautiful to me."

"Are you blind?" he demanded, turning away from her and climbing back into bed. "I look like some goddamn…clown!"

"I like clowns," retorted Harley, climbing under the covers to join him. "Always wanted to join the circus when I was younger. Always had a thing for clowns."

He choked out another laugh. Harley gently kissed him, and then pulled open the front of his robe, kissing down his white chest. "You're so beautiful," she whispered, reaching down to undo the belt. "So…"

He pushed her back gently. "No, Harley," he murmured. "You don't wanna…not with this. Nobody wants to make love with a monster."

"I told you, you ain't a monster, Mr. J," she murmured.

"Yeah, I am," he whispered quietly. "You remember telling me once about the darkness inside you, like a monster, that you thought was gonna consume you one day? Well, mine's consuming me. I can feel him, even as we speak, taking over my mind, driving me insane…"

Harley kissed him again. "I thought I was the one who drove you insane," she murmured, grinning. "That's what you used to tell me."

He smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, that's true, kid."

"So I ain't afraid of a monster," she murmured. She enveloped his mouth, and he held her gently, savoring her kiss.

"I don't wanna forget this," he murmured. "I keep forgetting things, just little things at first, but now…now I can't really remember any of my past before I met you. One day I might forget who you are, and I couldn't bear that, Harley. If I forget everything else, I don't wanna forget that, what we have, what we've shared. I couldn't bear to forget how much I love you. I'd have nothing left."

"I'll be with you every day reminding you, puddin'," she whispered. Then an idea struck her. "But maybe, if it'll help…" she said, rolling over and opening the drawer of her bedside table. "You can carry this with you as a reminder."

She held out the Joker card to him. He stared at it for a moment, and took it gently. "I…remember this," he murmured, smiling.

"Yeah?" she said, grinning. "You should, my Joker."

His smile widened. "That's it," he murmured. "That's who I am! I'm the Joker!" He laughed hysterically, his crazy, maniacal laugh, and Harley gently drew away from him.

"Puddin'? You ok?" she asked, concerned.

"Of course, pooh, never felt better in my life!" he chuckled. The strange light was back in his eyes, stronger than ever. "I remember who I am! I'm the Joker! I'm the wild card that makes the game fun! The surprise in the deck, the one who causes chaos by appearing outta nowhere and throwing everything outta order!" He laughed. "What a gag! Doncha see it, pooh? The jolly jester, the Joker, who shows everyone how stupid the rules are, how ridiculous it is to be orderly, who mocks them for their sanity, because they're all mad really! But only the Joker sees it! Only the Joker ain't afraid to break the rules and stop pretending! And me, I ain't gonna pretend anymore. I'm gonna be just as crazy as a coot, just like we all secretly are, only we're too afraid to admit it! I ain't afraid anymore! I'm gonna have fun and enjoy myself, because frankly that's all that's important in this joke of a life – that you have a few laughs before you're put outta your misery by that Great Lobotomizer in the Sky! He's probably pretty crazy too, though," he chuckled. "Probably a case of the mad leading the mad!"

He burst into hysterical laughter again. "Y'know…y'know who else ain't afraid to show he's crazy, Harl?" he gasped, controlling his laughter again.

"Nah uh, Mr. J," she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.

"Batman!" he exclaimed. "The guy's gotta be nuts and proud, right? He probably flies around and stops crime in a bat costume because he thinks it's a lotta fun! Probably a man after my own heart! Which is a real shame, because I think I'm gonna have to kill him! Can't have two Jokers running around, can you? Where would be the fun in that? But it's gonna be a blast figuring out a joke to end that guy's joke of a life! You wanna help me do that, pooh? You wanna help me kill Batman?"

"Yeah, Mr. J," she breathed. "Yeah, I do."

She did. She wanted Batman to pay for what he had done to her Mr. J. Her Mr. J, who was still in there somewhere, and who might never come back, but who she would still love forever. And if this was as close to her Mr. J as she could get, she would love him just as much. She would do anything for him, even surrender her own sanity. If that was the only way to be with him, so be it. There was no point resisting anymore.

She kissed him, pulling him down on top of her. "C'mon, puddin'," she breathed. "Come and rev up your Harley, and then drive her crazy."


	20. Chapter 19

Chuckie glanced at his watch. It was unusual for Harley to be late, but he figured maybe Jack had detained her somehow. Still, they needed good timing on this job – the mint truck wouldn't wait for them to rob it. He returned his attention to the TV, while Bill, Joe, and Rick watched from the sofa. He could tell they were uneasy about the delay too.

They all four stood up in astonishment when the door to the living room opened and Harley stepped inside, wearing a skintight catsuit with red and black diagonal patterns, like a playing card, and diamonds dotting the sleeve and leg. She was wearing a jester's hat with the same red and black pattern, and her face was painted white, with a black mask over her eyes.

"Say hello to your new, improved Harley Quinn, boys!" chuckled a familiar voice, as Jack Napier strode into the room, dressed in a purple suit with an orange shirt and green waistcoat and bowtie, with a yellow flower in his buttonhole. He was smiling a strange, terrible grin as he surveyed them all.

"Ain't she just a picture?" he chuckled, spanking Harley playfully. Harley squeaked happily and kissed him.

"Boss…you're back," stammered Chuckie, nervously.

"Sure am, Chuckie, and better than ever!" laughed Jack. "Don't tell me you didn't miss me?"

"Oh…of course I did…" said Chuckie, still uneasy about the horrible smile. "You…feeling ok now, Jack?"

He looked puzzled. "Jack," he repeated, blankly. "Can't say that name rings a bell!" he chuckled. "You must be confusing me with someone else, Chuckie. I'm the Joker, remember?" he said, pulling out a playing card.

"Joker?" repeated Chuckie.

"Yep," he replied, smiling. "The Ace of Knaves. The Clown Prince of Crime. The Joker."

Chuckie stared from him to Harley. "Is this…um…a joke?" he asked.

The Joker laughed. "Yeah, it is, Chuckie," he giggled. "And it turns out the joke's on you!"

He suddenly threw the Joker card at Chuckie's face, where it impacted and exploded. Chuckie's body fell to the ground. The Joker continued laughing hysterically as the other henchmen reached for their guns. He pulled out his, shooting a bang flag into Joe's chest, and then sprayed acid from his buttonhole into Bill's face. It was only Rick left, who was about to pull the trigger when he was suddenly struck a blow to the head that cracked his skull. He fell to the ground to reveal Harley standing behind him holding a hammer and smiling.

The Joker laughed hysterically. "Rats. Didn't get a chance to try out my joy buzzer," he chuckled, pulling it off his glove.

"You can use it next time, puddin'," purred Harley, coming over to him and kissing him. "They'll be a lotta next times."

He chuckled, pinching her cheek affectionately. "Think we might need to form a new gang, pooh, now that all these guys have fallen down on the job!" he laughed, looking down at the bodies. "One who won't mind taking orders from a guy who's gloriously insane."

"I'll find some guys, don't you worry, puddin'," she cooed. "Don't you worry about a thing, except having fun and being happy. That's all your Harley girl wants for you."

"And to kill the Bat," he chuckled.

"That won't be a problem, sweetie. You can easily handle a joke like him," said Harley.

"Yeah," agreed the Joker. "Now that I got my own costume and secret identity, I'm already his equal!" he laughed. "Outshining him will be a piece of cake." He snapped his fingers. "Hey, that sounds like a good idea, pumpkin! Why don't we come up with some kinda cake gag? Like me making an entrance coming outta a cake, or maybe planting a bomb in a cake and sending it to City Hall? I tell ya, madness is great for giving you good ideas!" he laughed.

"Whatever you want, puddin'," breathed Harley. "You just say the word and your Harley girl will make all your jokes come true."

He smiled and patted her head. "You're a sweet kid, Harl," he murmured. "I love ya, toots."

Then he slapped her across the face, laughing. "Now why don't you get outta here, you useless waste of space? Daddy's gotta plan how he's gonna kill the Bat. Once he's dead, we'll all be happy."

"Sure thing, puddin'," she said, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. She felt her cheek tenderly. She would have to get used to the random violence – Mr. J clearly found it amusing, and she was the last person in the world to wanna ruin his fun.

She had given up trying to fight the madness. All you had to do was surrender to it, and everything got easier from there. Mr. J had discovered that, being the genius that he was. And Harley was happy to give up everything for him, her life, her dreams, her mind. Whatever would make him happy.

She heard his laugh echoing down the corridor, mad and maniacal, the most beautiful sound in the world. She beamed, enjoying and needing the way it made her heart beat faster, and her love rush through her, making her feel the way only Mr. J could make her feel. She had no choice but to join in the laughter.

Mr. J had always been right – sanity was just one big joke. It was time Harley gave it up, and started laughing.

**The End**


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